


Interchangeable

by eideann



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Captivity, Carter Extravaganza, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Multi, Multiple Realities, Past AU Major Character Death, Physical Abuse, Slavery, Threats of Violence, Torture, Transdimensional Mirror, forced body modification, set season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 182,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6405130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eideann/pseuds/eideann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Daniel is found beaten and unconscious in a closet near his office, an investigation begins.  Security vids clearly show Jack walking into Daniel's office and dragging the struggling archeologist into that closet.  Jack is arrested, but facts quickly pile up that cast doubt on the obvious conclusion.  Two Jack O'Neills were on base at the same time. Daniel's injuries are too many and too varied in age to have been dealt during the brief time Jack and he were both in that closet, and this Daniel is missing an organ that Fraiser knows their Daniel still has.</p><p>Before long, it's clear that more than just two realities are involved in this catastrophe, and that it may very well take multiple SG-1s to bring all the Daniels home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in the mid 2000s, probably 2004-2005. When looking at the relationships above, the only pairs that actually overlap are the friendships, I just didn't feel like inserting identifying numbers to make that clear at a glance. I devoutly hope you enjoy the ride. It was a blast to write, and many thanks are due to my beta reader, Catslyn, who read as I wrote and suggested ideas, played through dialogue with me and kept me on track.

**_Monday, April 5_  
Reality L583**

Daniel was deeply engrossed in a translation that was proving more difficult than he'd anticipated. From the evidence of unraveled binding along one edge of the pages, it seemed to be a portion of a handwritten book, and the language was a derivative of what Daniel was almost positive was Indo-European. Further, there were quotes in it that appeared to have been translated from their original languages into the language of the text. That made translation doubly difficult, because translating from a translation was like playing that telephone game they made you play in school. Meaning was always lost.

He heard footsteps behind him and looked back over his shoulder. Jack was standing in the doorway. "Back already?" he asked, glancing at his watch. It had only been an hour since he'd had the colonel in, fiddling with his bric-a-brac and making him crazy. "Did you forget to ask me –" Though he hadn't heard any movement whatsoever, he suddenly felt a strong arm grip him hard around the chest, pinning his arms to his sides. "Jack!" he exclaimed.

"Quiet, Daniel!" Jack growled, putting a hand over his mouth and dragging him off his stool and out the door.

For a moment, Daniel didn't try to stop him, so stunned was he by the sudden attack, but then he started struggling wildly, for all the good it did. Jack's strength was more than equal to his own, and his training made the outcome a foregone conclusion. Daniel looked around, but saw no one to come to his aid, and despite his efforts, Jack succeeded in dragging him to the storeroom that was close to his office where he threw him to the floor and pinned him down, cuffing his wrists together behind him.

The cold of the concrete beneath his cheek . . . the pain in his arms . . . the temple of his glasses pressed into his face . . . this wasn't a dream. He lay there, breathing hard, trying to figure out why Jack was acting this way. It was crazy. What could have happened? Had some illness from offworld just taken longer than usual to incubate?

"Jack?" he ventured. "What's –"

A hand threaded into his hair and yanked his head backwards. "I said quiet!" Jack snarled, then let go, and Daniel's cheek hit the concrete with a jolting smack. He moved down Daniel's body and bound his ankles together as well. "Ready, Kowalski?" he said. Daniel didn't know what to think. Kowalski was . . .

"Yes sir." The voice was sharp and clear . . . and utterly impossible.

Daniel felt his stomach twist and he craned his neck to look up at the face of a dead man. This . . . how could this be happening?

Jack yanked him up to his feet again and thrust him toward Kowalski. "The other one's in place?"

Kowalski nodded towards the other end of the room, and what Daniel saw there made him freeze with shock and terror. On his back on the floor lay a creature of welts and bruises, face bloodied but clearly . . . clearly his own.

So focused was he on the limp body that he barely noticed when Jack knelt and put something around his ankle. Jack stood up and, abruptly, Kowalski threw Daniel over his shoulder, knocking some of his breath out of him and throwing his glasses across the room. He craned around, trying to get away, but there wasn't enough space in the storeroom for him to move.

"Ready to go, colonel," Kowalski said, and Daniel saw him fiddle with some device on his belt. Dizziness washed over him, then passed, probably due to being head down like this.

"Aren't you going to get medical attention for him?" Daniel asked, looking at the man who looked like him.

Kowalski laughed, a very unpleasant sound. "It ain't him you should be worrying about," he said as he walked out of the storeroom.

"What in the hell is going on?" Daniel demanded. Kowalski made no reply, but Daniel heard the door shut behind them and he craned his neck to see where Jack was, but he couldn't see him. Were they nuts? How far did they think they'd get, walking through the SGC with a trussed up Daniel Jackson flung over the shoulder of a dead man?

He kept twisting around, trying to see someone to help him, but there was no one in sight. This was not happening. Daniel started yelling for help and struggling as best he could. In the breath between shouts, though, he heard Kowalski laughing again and anger surged through him. He twisted down and bit him on the fleshy part of his shoulder.

The soldier let out a stream of curses and threw him to the ground. Daniel immediately started trying to scramble backwards, but Kowalski place one foot between his knees, effectively immobilizing him.

"Damn it, let me go!" Daniel yelled.

Kowalski ignored him, doing something with that device on his belt, and Daniel took the opportunity offered and rolled sideways, knocking the larger man's feet out from under him. Unfortunately, this left them tangled together, and before Daniel could extricate himself, a very annoyed Kowalski had a firm grip on him again. "Hold still, you stupid shit!" he growled. Dragging Daniel to his feet, he shook him. "Look, Dr. Jackson, I don't want to hurt you any more than I have to but –"

"Who the hell are you?" Daniel demanded. Meanwhile, his eyes were still darting around the hallway, hoping for help. People usually passed this way pretty frequently, but not today, apparently.

"No one's going to help you, Dr. Jackson," Kowalski said, and Daniel focused back on his face. There was a slight smile there. "No one can see you, no one can hear you. We're out of phase."

Daniel blinked. "No," he said, shaking his head incredulously. "No, that's not possible," he said incredulously.

They'd wound up with Kowalski facing the way they'd come and Daniel facing the way they were heading. Now Jack came around the corner behind Kowalski, eyes blazing with fury, and Daniel was struck by how utterly terrifying that expression was. He'd never seen it directed at him before. "We don't have time for this, damn it!" the colonel declared. He seized Daniel and slammed him painfully against a wall, making his arms bend at brutal angles. "I don't want to knock you out, Daniel, and risk scrambling those valuable brains of yours," he said. "But you have bones that aren't particularly necessary to your function, as I see it."

"Jack, I –"

Still pinning him to the wall with one hand, Jack turned away without acknowledging that he'd spoken. "Kowalski, do you think you can handle one archeologist?"

"Yes sir," Kowalski said, snapping to attention.

"You'd better. Now, I've vanished into a men's room, so we can make straight for the lab."

Daniel licked his lips, nervously, not altogether certain what Jack was talking about. "Look, could you guys just tell me what it is you –"

He caught a brief glimpse of the enraged look in Jack's eyes as he turned back, then a slap snapped his head sideways and made him see stars. Very slowly, he turned his face back. Jack was waiting for him. "Maybe I haven't made myself clear to you, Dr. Jackson," he said, seizing a handful of his hair again. Daniel could feel blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and he could taste it where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek. "Do not speak unless you are spoken to," he said, shaking Daniel's head in time to the words. "Do you understand?"

Jaw clenched, Daniel met those angry eyes, trying to stare him down. He didn't know exactly what was going on, though he had an idea that seemed too preposterous to be believed. More preposterous than the dead man standing behind Jack's left shoulder and watching the interchange with a faint grin . . . maybe not.

Jack twisted his hand in Daniel's hair, pulling it viciously. "I said, do you understand?" He released Daniel's hair. "A nod will do."

Daniel took a deep breath and nodded. He didn't need to get himself knocked out. He'd never get away if that happened.

"Good." Jack jerked him away from the wall and threw him back at Kowalski who caught him and hoisted him immediately back onto his shoulder. "Any more delays and I start docking pay and breaking toes."

"Yes sir," Kowalski said, and Daniel felt his gut clench. He had to get away from these two somehow.

"I'm going to the next level," Jack said, and Daniel peered around. What he saw made his eyes widen. Jack seemed to shimmer and fade oddly . . . out of phase? He started forward and Kowalski followed him. When they turned the corner onto the corridor where the elevator was, Daniel craned his neck and began to believe that they were really out of phase. This hallway was always busy, and there was no one visible except Jack, who was only barely visible. He raised his hand and fisted it, and Kowalski stopped dead, waiting.

Daniel started to twist, to try and throw himself off Kowalski's shoulder. The other man's arm tightened around his legs. "How do you think the other Daniel got into that condition?" he asked conversationally and Daniel froze, the image of the motionless, barely breathing form etched in his mind.

The elevator door opened, and Daniel wondered what was going to happen. Kowalski had shifted him on his shoulder, and now he couldn't see Jack, but they were suddenly moving swiftly forward. The elevator closed, just brushing Daniel's hair. He turned his head and saw Jack press a button, and the level he'd selected made Daniel's preposterous theory seem a whole lot closer to reality.

They reached the floor and the doors opened. Jack peered around the door first, then gestured them forward. Daniel didn't know what to do. If they were heading where he thought they were, he was in hot water up to his neck with no way out. They wove back and forth a bit, responding to Jack's signals, and Daniel guessed that they must be avoiding people in the halls. How Jack could see them without being seen himself was anyone's guess.

Jack pulled out a card and held it ready, presumably waiting for a moment when there were no passersby to notice a door opening of its own accord. He swiped the card and they stepped through into the empty lab. Empty, that is, aside from the transdimensional mirror. Daniel started shaking his head, twisting in Kowalski's grip.

The soldier tightened his arm sharply and stepped forward, reaching out. Daniel didn't see him touch it, but he felt the shiver as the mirror shifted them. Then he felt hands on his ankles, untying them. "Let him down, Kowalski."

As they lowered him to his feet, Daniel looked around in dismay. This was recognizably the mountain, but it was a different lab. Kowalski pressed a button on the device on his belt. Daniel felt a spell of dizziness wash over him again, but this time he recognized it for what it was. They were passing back into phase with the rest of humanity. Jack vanished from sight briefly, only to appear a moment later.

He put a hand on Daniel's shoulder and smiled coldly. "Dr. Jackson, welcome to my world."

* * *

**Reality L583**

"Medical emergency on Level 18!" Jack looked up from the report he was laboring over. "Medical team to Level 18, corridor 3."

Daniel's office. Jack was moving before he had a chance to think about it. He ran to the elevator and swiped his card, waiting impatiently for the door to open. People emerged, eyes wide and worried at the announcement. He dashed inside and swiped his card again then jabbed at the buttons. When he reached Level 18 the doors opened and he was thrust against the back of the elevator wall by orderlies coming in with a gurney.

He stared down at the figure on the pale green surface in shock. He'd left Daniel no more than ninety minutes ago. How in the hell had he gotten into this state in such a short time? His lips were split, and one of his eyes was blackened, and there was a purple swelling on his jaw.

"Blood pressure is dangerously low," said Lt. Travers, her voice utterly calm despite the bad news she was relaying. "I think he's bleeding internally."

"More than likely," Doc Fraiser said. Jack shook his head, utterly appalled. How could it be? Who had done this to him. Rage began to build under the worry.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Not sure," the doctor said. "Major Takagashi went into the storeroom near Daniel's office and found him like this." She pulled Daniel's eyelids up one after the other, very gently, flashing her light in them. "Eyes are reacting normally," she said. "Daniel, can you hear me?"

He seemed to be trying to speak, but Jack couldn't hear what he was saying. Neither could Fraiser, it seemed, because she leaned closer. Then she shook her head. "You're going to be okay, Daniel," she said in a reassuring voice. "You're going to be fine."

The elevator doors opened and the medical team went smoothly into motion again, and Jack followed them down the hall to the infirmary. "Get him into X-ray," Fraiser ordered. Still moving backwards, she put up an arresting hand. "Colonel O'Neill, you'll have to wait out here."

Jack came to a stop, hands flexing in frustration. What in the hell had happened? Carter and Teal'c arrived a moment later.

"What happened?" Carter asked.

"I don't know," Jack said. "He looks like somebody used him for a punching bag, though, and they think he's bleeding internally."

"But who?" she asked, sounding bewildered.

"I don't know," Jack said again. "But I'm going to kill him."

They found seats, waiting with impatience. They hadn't even been there fifteen minutes when Carter got up and started pacing. Jack sat with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He should be out there, trying to figure out who had done this, but he couldn't leave without knowing if Daniel was going to be all right . . . if he was even going to live . . .

"Colonel O'Neill?" Jack looked up in surprise. General Hammond was gazing down at him sternly, flanked by Feretti and Makepeace. "You are under arrest for the assault of Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"What?" Jack exclaimed, coming to his feet in shock.

Carter and Teal'c seemed to be struck speechless.

Hammond took a deep breath. "You are under arrest for the assault of Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"That's insane! I'd never hurt –"

"We've got video footage of you dragging Daniel through the hall from his office to the storeroom, colonel."

Jack's jaw dropped and he shook his head wordlessly.

"But that's impossible!" Carter said. "Colonel O'Neill would never do a thing like that."

"I would never have thought so," Hammond said, "but I've seen the footage. Colonel O'Neill, please go with Feretti and Makepeace quietly."

"But sir –" Jack looked toward the surgery where Dr. Fraiser was patching Daniel up.

"Go," Hammond said firmly, and, utterly baffled by this turn of events, he went.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Monday, April 5_  
Reality L583**

Sam watched Colonel O'Neill leave the infirmary in shock. Turning to the general, she said, "Sir, I can't believe he'd ever hurt Daniel."

"I don't want to believe it myself, captain," Hammond said, shaking his head. He seemed very disturbed. "But I saw . . ." He paused to take a deep breath. "He went into the storeroom with Dr. Jackson, who was struggling to get away, and came out again alone. A bare forty-five minutes later, Dr. Jackson was found barely alive, and no one entered that room from the moment Colonel O'Neill left it till Major Takagashi went in."

Sam shook her head. It didn't make sense. Teal'c echoed her thoughts. "There must be some other explanation," he said.

"I wish I could see one," the general said, looking unhappy. He glanced toward the operating room. "Have you heard anything?"

"No sir," Sam said.

"Please call me if there's any news at all," Hammond said.

Sam watched as he started to leave, then said, "Sir, can I see this footage?"

"Not just yet, captain. Please, just wait here." He nodded at both of them and left.

"I don't understand," Sam said. "Colonel O'Neill would never hurt Daniel." Her mind was going over all the tricks that could be used to fake video images, trying to guess who might be trying to put both Daniel and the colonel out of commission.

Teal'c was silent for a long moment. "He has in the past," he said eventually.

Startled out of her thoughts, Sam refocused her eyes on his face. "What?"

The Jaffa looked very phlegmatic. "When he was infected by the illness on P3X-797, O'Neill became quite violent and attacked DanielJackson."

"That was the virus, not Colonel O'Neill," Sam said impatiently.

"Perhaps something similar has taken place. Perhaps O'Neill is not himself."

Sam considered this, but then shook her head regretfully. "He seemed pretty normal when we saw him earlier."

Teal'c nodded, looking thoughtful, and Sam tried to imagine what could have happened. SG-1 hadn't had any missions lately that suggested an obvious explanation for this behavior. She and Teal'c sat waiting in an uneasy silence that infected everyone in the infirmary. Hours passed. Sam was ready to scream, and she knew that the colonel had to be pacing anxiously inside whatever cell they'd put him in. How could anyone ever really think that he'd attack Daniel?

Finally, Janet emerged, her expression very closed and tense. The way she avoided glancing towards them made Sam certain that she knew they were there, but she headed straight into the bathroom next to her office without acknowledging them.

Sam stared at the door the doctor had exited, wondering what had happened. Surely if Daniel was dead, Janet would have said something to them. Surely . . .

A moment later, orderlies came out with Daniel on a gurney. Sam rushed over to him with Teal'c beside her. After a moment of hovering while the orderlies got the IV and monitoring equipment set up, she remembered General Hammond. She made a quick call and then walked back over to where Daniel lay, still and pathetic and be-tubed.

Fury filled her at whoever had done this to her friend and then tried to place the blame on their commanding officer.

Hammond showed up amazingly swiftly. "How's our boy?" he asked as Dr. Fraiser emerged from the bathroom. She didn't immediately reply, but checked a couple of things on Daniel then gestured them all away from the bed. "Where's Colonel O'Neill? He should hear this, too."

"He's in detention," Hammond said with a scowl. "There is very strong evidence leading to the conclusion that he attacked Dr. Jackson."

Janet's eyes widened. "Well, you might want to rethink that, sir," she said. "Because . . ." She looked over at Daniel on the bed. "That's not Daniel," she said.

"What?" Sam exclaimed.

"Well, let me rephrase. That's not the Daniel I examined five days ago after the trip to PN3-837. I can't explain it, but this man has injuries that are more than a week old that weren't present five days ago. And even more telling . . . this man doesn't have an appendix."

"I take it Dr. Jackson still has his appendix?" Hammond asked dryly.

"Yes," Janet said, looking over at the familiar stranger. "I've got someone testing his DNA, but the results may take a couple of hours."

"Right." Hammond turned to gaze at the injured man. "In the meantime, maybe I should put a guard on him."

Janet shrugged. "He's not going anywhere, general. Not with those injuries." Sam thought they were all missing a key point. She opened her mouth, but Janet started speaking before she could. "He was talking some before we put him out and he _sounds_ like Daniel. It makes no sense. He has scars I can identify, from injuries that I treated a year ago, but that is not the man I examined five days ago."

Sam shook her head. "Fine. If that's not Daniel, then where is he?" she asked urgently.

They all stared at her, eyes wide. Fraiser looked at the figure on the bed and shook her head helplessly. Hammond opened his mouth and then closed it looking befuddled. Teal'c merely looked understatedly upset.

The infirmary door opened, and Lt. Malkin, one of the security men, came in and walked up to General Hammond. "Sir?" he said quietly.

"What?" Hammond asked curtly.

"Sir, we have a problem." Malkin paused, glancing at Sam and the others.

"Well, out with it, man!" Hammond snapped.

Malkin gulped nervously and glanced around again. "We have Colonel O'Neill in two places at the same time, sir. In the security footage."

There was silence for a moment, then Hammond cleared his throat. "Then which one do we have locked up?"

"As far as we can tell, sir," Lt. Malkin said. "We've traced both men, and it seems the one who is locked up is not the one who injured Dr. Jackson. That one seems to have vanished into a men's room around the corner from Dr. Jackson's office."

"Vanished?" Hammond asked incredulously.

"He never left the room," the lieutenant said. "We've been tracing his movements, and it's very odd. He appeared out of a men's room on the 21st level and went up to the storeroom where Dr. Jackson was found, opened the door and looked in for a moment, then left the door open and went into Dr. Jackson's office, attacked him, and dragged him to the storeroom."

"Right, I've seen that," Hammond said.

"Well, he stayed in there for about five minutes, and then –"

"Five minutes?" Fraiser asked, looking surprised. "Are you sure?"

Lt. Malkin nodded. "Five minutes, seventeen seconds to be exact."

"It's unlikely in the extreme that the recent injuries suffered by . . ." she glanced over at him, ". . . my patient could have been given to him in that short a time."

Sam shook her head, a totally bizarre idea occurring to her. "Did you say Level 21?" she asked Malkin.

"Yes, captain."

"Can you have them check the logs on the locks on all the labs down there?" she asked. "Specifically in the time frame just before the appearance of the second Colonel O'Neill and just after his disappearance."

Lt. Malkin glanced at Hammond who nodded. The security man left quickly, shutting the door behind him. Hammond pursed his lips, turning to Janet. "In the meantime, Dr. Fraiser, I want you give the Colonel O'Neill we have locked up a thorough examination. Check everything you can think of. Verify his identity as completely as you possibly can."

"Yes sir," Janet said.

"And keep me posted on . . . your patient's condition." Hammond looked over at the pathetic figure on the bed. "What exactly is his condition?"

Janet sighed. "He's got a pattern of repeated injuries," she said. "He's seen a lot of abuse over the past weeks, I'm not sure how long. Most of the older injuries aren't too serious. The worst are two cracked ribs and a broken foot. The ribs have largely healed now, and the foot is well on its way, but more recently . . ." She pulled out some x-rays and put them on a light box. "He's got three freshly broken ribs and both the bones of his right forearm are fractured." She pointed out the partially healed cracks in his ribs and the sharp breaks. Sam looked at the snapped bones in his forearm and felt sick to her stomach. It was disturbing to know that someone had done that on purpose. Janet kept talking. "His kidneys are badly bruised, it looks like someone kicked him repeatedly in the lower –" She broke off, her eyes filled with worry as she gazed over at him. Taking a deep breath, she said, "He should make a complete recovery, but it will take time."

Hammond had a very thoughtful look on his face. After a moment, he turned to her and said, "Captain, I want you to give serious consideration to the possibility of time travel being involved somehow."

She blinked. "Time travel? But sir –"

"I don't insist on it, but keep the possibility in mind," he said, and she nodded. He turned back towards the injured man. "If that's not Dr. Jackson, then where is Dr. Jackson and who is this?" Janet shook her head.

Sam hesitated briefly, and Teal'c tilted his head, obviously reading from her expression that she had an idea. Hammond noticed and raised his eyebrows. She bit her lip uncertainly, then plunged in. "If I'm right," she said, "then that is Daniel Jackson, just not our Daniel Jackson." All three of them looked at her with varying levels of incredulity, and she shrugged uncomfortably. "Level 21 is where the transdimensional mirror is stored," she said. "That would explain both a spare Colonel O'Neill and a spare Daniel."

"But what you're suggesting, captain –"

"I'm not suggesting anything, sir," she said quickly. "It's just a theory without any evidence at the moment, but . . ."

"But if that is so," Teal'c said, "then our DanielJackson may not even be in our reality."

Sam nodded and looked over at the figure on the bed. "And somewhere out there someone is missing their Daniel," she said.

* * *

Jack was ready to jump out of his skin. He had no way of knowing if Daniel was still in surgery, if he was dying, if he was dead already . . . he kicked the door angrily. How could there be video footage of him doing something he hadn't done? Had someone doctored the footage? Could someone be impersonating him? Well enough to fool the general?

Hours had passed while he'd paced. Jack had a pretty good time sense even without his watch, and he knew that a lot of time had gone by since he'd been brought here. No one had spoken to him since Makepeace had locked the door. Feretti had peered in looking unhappy, but he hadn't said anything.

In his mind's eye he could see Daniel's battered body . . . he wanted information and he wanted it now!

He started towards the door, to yell for someone to find out what was going on with Daniel, but before he'd done more than take a deep breath, Makepeace appeared in the window. "If you yell in my ear, I'm going to be annoyed, colonel," he said.

Jack let out the breath explosively and stepped back from the door a pace. "What's going on?"

"That seems to be getting complicated," Makepeace said, looking discomfitted. Jack blinked. For it to disturb the iron soldier mask the marine colonel habitually wore, things must have gotten extremely complicated. "We've been ordered to take you back to the infirmary to be checked out."

"Checked for what?" Jack asked.

The mask came down again as Jack spoke and Makepeace gazed solemnly at him. "Colonel O'Neill, please turn around and place your hands on the back wall of the cell."

"How's Daniel?" he demanded, not moving.

Makepeace ignored the question. "Please turn around and –" he started, but Jack didn't let him finish.

"I'm not doing anything until you tell me how Daniel is!"

Makepeace stared at him inflexibly. Feretti wasn't visible but Jack could hear him. "He's out of danger, sir."

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Out of danger. Good. That was good. He turned around and followed the instructions he'd been given. He heard the door open behind him and waited. They'd already taken everything he had on him besides his clothes. Makepeace patted him down nonetheless, then pulled his arms down and cuffed him, all completely by the book. Jack closed his eyes and controlled his temper. "That really isn't necessary."

"Maybe not," Makepeace said, "but we're not taking any chances. If you aren't the one who beat Dr. Jackson half to death, we'll apologize later."

"Right," Jack said, grimacing. Feretti took his arm almost apologetically, but Makepeace was all business. They headed through the halls, getting some pretty odd looks from the staff. Jack ignored the looks, focused on the fact that he would soon be where Daniel was. He had questions, but he didn't want to ask them in so public a forum.

When they reached the elevator, Makepeace looked at the people who were waiting. "We'll be taking the next car alone, people. You'll have to wait."

Looking uneasy, they drew back from Jack and his escort. Jack looked at the elevator door and paid no outward attention. This was going to be fun to recover from.

The elevator arrived and they got on. Once the doors shut, he swallowed. Without looking at either man, he cleared his throat. "So, do you know what actually happened to Daniel?"

Makepeace shook his head as Feretti started to respond. "I don't think we should tell you that, sir," he said. "It might be important later." Feretti closed his mouth without speaking.

"Right," Jack said, and glowered at no on in particular. That pretty much meant that Makepeace wasn't going to answer any questions, and Feretti was following the lead of the senior officer, which was only appropriate. Damn.

Fortunately, the infirmary was close to the elevator, so they didn't have far to go once they reached the right level. Carter was nowhere to be seen, but Teal'c stood by the bed where the limp form of Daniel lay. There was a cast on his arm, and tubes in his nose, and he was hooked up to several monitors. Jack had seen Daniel in similar condition more than once in the past, but he'd never been accused of doing it to him.

"This way, colonel," Fraiser said, drawing his attention away from Daniel. She gestured towards one of the private exam rooms in the back. Jack headed towards it, Makepeace and Feretti beside him. The other colonel gave him a sidelong look as he took control of his own movement despite the cuffs.

With Feretti and Makepeace standing by on watch, Jack suffered through the process of a complete check up, as if he'd just come back from offworld. Fraiser offered no explanations, and he kept his questions behind his teeth despite his frustration.

Finally, after all the normal hurdles, after an MRI and a CAT scan, Jack looked up at Dr. Fraiser and said, "Can you please tell me what's going on?"

Fraiser bit her lip and shook her head. "Please wait here, colonel," she said, taking her samples and leaving. Jack pulled his legs up onto the exam bed and thumped down onto his back. His frustration was growing, but there was nothing he could do. If he had done what they thought he'd done, they were behaving exactly right.

He listened to the sound of the clock ticking, railing internally that they were still so focused on him that they were going to let whoever really did this get away. He knew they had to have people looking hard, Hammond wouldn't just stop with the notion that Jack had attacked Daniel. They would continue to investigate. But he was immobilized, and he couldn't help thinking that was the intention of the person who had done this.

Another hour passed. Makepeace and Feretti had to be as bored and as frustrated as he was. Someone had attacked a member of the SGC on base, and unless they really believed it had been him, they had to be as antsy to find out who it really was as he was.

When the door opened, Jack sat up like a shot. Hammond walked in and Makepeace stepped forward as if to protect the general, but Hammond waved him back. "We have established that you did not attack Dr. Jackson."

Jack came to his feet. "Good, then maybe we can get onto figuring out who did!"

"Actually, we know that, too." Hammond looked at him uneasily. "Come with me to the briefing room."

More than a little puzzled, Jack followed him out, but made a detour to stop by Daniel's bed. "How is he?" he asked. He looked up and met Teal'c's eyes, but the Jaffa's expression seemed odd somehow. He started to ask him what was wrong, but Hammond spoke before he could.

"He will recover," the general said. "Fraiser said it may take months, but we'll go into the details during the briefing."

Jack tore himself away from Daniel's side and followed Hammond to the briefing room. He hated thinking of Daniel stuck in bed for months because some bastard had beaten him so badly. More odd looks greeted him as he headed back through the halls, but he remained calculatedly oblivious to it. When they reached the briefing room, he found Sam and several of the security guys waiting there with Dr. Fraiser. There were two A/V carts at one end of the table, both with TV and VCR. The TVS were on, showing blank blue screens.

"All right, let's start over," Hammond said. Jack slipped into the seat next to Carter. "Once I was assured that you were not the one who attacked Dr. Jackson, I stopped the meeting," Hammond went on. "We have quite a little situation on our hands."

Jack took a deep breath and was quite proud of his quiet tone. "What is going on?"

Lt. Malkin cleared his throat. He had the remote controls beside him. "First, sir, I think you should see why we thought it was you in the first place." He paused, glancing nervously at the general. "When Dr. Jackson was found, we naturally started searching through the security footage for the area around his office to see if we could identify his attacker. This is what we found." He glanced down, selected a remote and directed it at the cart on the left. Jack looked at that screen to see the hallway outside Daniel's office. One could see that Daniel's office door was open, but could not see inside the room. The storeroom door was about ten feet closer to the camera. After a moment, a man that was unmistakably him walked up to the storeroom, opened the door and left it open as he headed on into Daniel's office.

"What time is that?" Jack asked.

Malkin paused the video tape and said, "12:31."

"I was in my office at that time," Jack protested. "Ears deep in reports."

"We know that, colonel," Hammond said. "Go ahead, Malkin."

The video started up again and Jack watched this man, who was totally indistinguishable from him, wrestle Daniel out of his office and down the hall and through the open storeroom door, then kick it shut behind them. Malkin started fast forwarding the tape, then paused it. "Five minutes and seventeen seconds pass between the time the door closes and when it opens again." Jack nodded and Malkin pressed play again. The storeroom door opened. The fake Jack stepped out and, oddly, held the door open for several seconds, then closed it and headed down the hall and out of sight.

"So you see, colonel," said General Hammond, "why we thought it was you?"

Jack nodded again. "So, exactly what cleared me?"

Malkin cleared his throat. "Well, sir, we appear to have had two Colonel O'Neills on base for about the space of an hour."

"Two of me?" Jack repeated. "How . . . what . . ." He turned away from the security officer. "Carter?"

She looked extremely uncomfortable. "You remember the transdimensional mirror?" she asked.

Jack shook his head in denial. "No!" he said emphatically. "Not that thing again."

Carter looked down at the sheet of paper in front of her. "From the camera in the lab where it's been stored, we know it was activated at 11:56 a.m. Nothing visible happened in the room, but the door opened on its own at 11:58 a.m. and closed at 12:01 p.m."

"Someone snuck out," Jack said.

Carter nodded. "That was our surmise, sir. But since the intruder or intruders were not visible –"

"I'm sure there was only one, captain," Lt. Malkin interjected.

"Well, I'm not," Carter replied firmly.

"Wait a minute," Jack said. "Are you saying that a me from an alternate reality came on base for the sole purpose of beating up on the local Daniel?"

"No, sir," Carter said uneasily. Her eyes flicked to Dr. Fraiser and Hammond. "That isn't our Daniel."

It felt like there was an explosion going off in Jack's head. He rose to his feet with the force of his emotions. "Son of a bitch!"

"Colonel, please sit down," General Hammond said. Jack took a deep breath and got himself under control. He sat down. Hammond gave him a sympathetic look, then added, "Go ahead, people."

"That's not Daniel?" he asked in quieter tones.

Carter cleared her throat. "He's not our Daniel, but he is Daniel Jackson." She looked over at Dr. Fraiser who nodded.

"I've tested his DNA and the match is exact," she said.

"But we're sure he's not ours?" Jack was having trouble wrapping his mind around this concept. He looked like Daniel. He seemed like Daniel.

Fraiser nodded. "Either that or time travel is somehow involved. The man in the infirmary has been enduring physical abuse for the past several weeks, possibly as much as two months, injury on injury, and then today he suffered a brutal attack which . . . if he had been found an hour later, might have resulted in his death."

Jack sat for a moment, staring at her. "And the theory, I take it, is that our Daniel is with the people who damaged this Daniel?"

Carter opened her mouth, took a deep breath and nodded unhappily. "Yes sir."

"And how are we going to get him back?"

She raised her chin, eyes bleak, and he could read in her expression what her answer was going to be. "I don't know."

* * *

**Reality A001**

Daniel stared into those cold eyes for a long second, then he ducked out from under the other man's hand and thrust his shoulder into Jack's chest, shoving him aside. The mirror was still active. If he could just touch it with some part of his body he'd have a fighting chance of getting away.

The mirror deactivated just before he reached it, and he barely caught himself before he barked his cheek on the stone frame. He heard laughter behind him and then Jack seized his hair and pulled him back. "Leaving so soon, Dr. Jackson?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

"It was worth a try," Daniel said, glaring.

Jack shoved him away roughly, and Daniel stumbled backwards into a table but managed somehow to keep his feet. The other men were standing at their ease, leaning casually against the tables. "Not bad," Jack said with a grin. Kowalski snorted. "But you need to understand something, Daniel."

He raised his chin, glowering at this alternate reality Jack. "What, exactly?" he demanded.

The grin fell off the colonel's face at Daniel's tone. He straightened his spine and started towards Daniel, looming up over him. Absurdly, Daniel found himself wondering if this Jack was taller than his Jack, because he'd never felt the height difference between them so acutely before. He didn't back up, didn't give way to the attempt at intimidation, because he didn't want the jackass to know he'd succeeded. A slow smile spread across Jack's face, as if he sensed the fear beneath the surface. "You are here to do the kind of work you're used to doing already. All you have to do is translate stuff, help Carter figure out how things work, that kind of thing."

"What makes you think I'll work for you?" Daniel asked, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes.

Jack leaned very close to his face. "Because, Dr. Jackson," he said, placing special emphasis on the title, "if you don't, I'll smash your head so hard it will turn your brains to mush, then send you home to live out your life as an imbecile." Daniel didn't break eye contact, though he desperately wanted to as the sincerity behind that threat came home to him. "You're an amazingly brilliant man," he added, "but when all's said and done, you're a dime a dozen. I'll break you and go get myself another one." After a moment more of staring into Daniel's eyes, Jack turned away and walked towards the door. "Take him to his room, let Carter know he's here. I need a shower."

Daniel watched him walk out of the room feeling utterly stunned. There was not the slightest doubt in his mind that Jack meant every word of what he'd said. Kowalski came up beside him and took his arm. "Come on, kid, let's get you –"

"Send me home!" Daniel said, resisting the pull, looking up at Kowalski's face. "Charlie, please, send me home."

Kowalski shook his head. "We need you, Daniel."

"They need me back there, too."

Shrugging, the major said, "Ah, they've got a Daniel. They'll be fine."

This attitude silenced him, and he went along with Kowalski without speaking further. The halls here were as busy as they were at home, and he saw many of the same people, but the mood was entirely different. The lighting was no different, but the place felt darker, less open somehow.

He couldn't help noticing the various reactions people had to him. Looks of sympathy from some, snickers from others, and a few just looked away. None of this reassured him in the slightest. He didn't try to get away, because there seemed to be no point. He couldn't get home by getting away from Kowalski now, and if he made them feel the need to guard him too closely, he'd never get away later.

They reached the elevator, and Kowalski swiped his card. No one seemed to want to join them in the elevator, so they got one to themselves. He looked up at Charlie Kowalski. "This is very odd."

"What is?"

"You've been dead for nearly two years in my reality."

Kowalski raised his eyebrows. "Really? Was I heroic?"

"It wasn't pretty," Daniel said, looking away, remembering the dreadful events that had followed their first trip to Chulak. "He got taken over by an immature Goa'uld. It was . . . it was bad."

"Wow." He stood silently for a minute. "So, was I an idiot or something?"

Daniel closed his eyes and shuddered slightly. The alternate reality he'd encountered when he discovered the transdimensional mirror had been different from his own, but the people had seemed, on a basic level, to be very much the same kind of people as the ones in his own. These people were disconcertingly different.

The elevator doors opened and Kowalski pulled him forward. Daniel walked resignedly with him, but they didn't have much further to go. He tugged Daniel to a stop in front of a door that had an airman standing watch by it. Kowalski nodded to the airman, who swiped his card through the reader and opened the door.

They went inside and Daniel looked around. It was an office very like his own, but clearly designed also as a prison. Bookshelves lined the walls, very neatly organized, and there was a narrow cot wedged in between a pair of them against a wall. "Is there a toilet?" he asked.

"There's a little bathroom in the back there," Kowalski said, pointing.

Daniel walked a little away from him, looking around. The desk was a lot like his own, it might have been this reality's Daniel . . . He turned and looked at the major. "What happened to your Daniel?"

Kowalski shrugged. "He got a bit unmanageable, and the colonel killed him." The casual way he said it chilled Daniel to the marrow. "Here, let me get those cuffs off you."

He held still while Kowalski freed his wrists, then turned so that he didn't have his back to the man. "So, what now?"

"Now?" Kowalski grinned. "Now you wait here." He went to the door, knocked and was let out, leaving Daniel alone in the space. The door shut with a dull click and Daniel stared at it for a moment. Then he went to the bathroom and washed his face. He had a rising lump on the right side of his face, and a trickle of blood had started itching down his chin. When he was done, he turned and leaned against the sink. This wasn't a little bathroom. There was a decent-sized bathtub with a shower. Assuming that food came from outside – and Daniel declined to consider the corollary to that – this space was entirely self-contained. It would be extremely hard to get away if they never let him out of the room.

Of course where he would get away to was the next question. The mirror was deactivated, and he had no idea how to be sure he was getting home to the right reality. There might not be an easy way, and that thought was less than comforting.

The outer door opened and he stepped out into the room again to see who had come in. The slender figure with her green fatigues and short blond hair was immediately recognizable. "Sam!" he exclaimed. Surely she would be the same, surely she wouldn't have become . . .

She turned to face him, her blue eyes as cold as winter. "That's Lt. Carter to you, Dr. Jackson. You may know your Samantha Carter, but you don't know me, and I'll thank you to remember that."

Daniel felt as if he'd been doused in ice water, but he nodded. "Of course, lieutenant," he said. "It's odd, the Samantha Carter in my reality is a captain."

"Is she?" asked Lt. Carter. "I'm thrilled to hear it." Her voice told him clearly that she was anything but. "Let me be straight with you. Your reality is not important anymore. You have to focus on where you are and what's expected of you. I don't care who is dead there, I don't care who's alive there, and I particularly don't care what your life was like there. And if I'm married to Colonel O'Neill there, I really don't want to know about it."

"Um . . . no," Daniel said.

"No what?" she asked.

"No, you're not married to Jack."

"Great." She rolled her eyes. In her hands she held a sheaf of papers. "Here's your first task. We uncovered this stuff on P3N-351 and need a translation."

"And if I say no?" he asked.

Her expression grew grim. "If you say no, I have orders to call Colonel O'Neill, and since he's eating his lunch right now, he'd be in an unpleasant mood when he got here."

"An unpleasant mood," Daniel repeated thoughtfully. "I suppose that would be . . . worse . . . than he was when he fetched me from home?"

She smiled tightly. "I'd say so."

"Right," Daniel said. He walked over to her and took the papers. "Can you tell me anything about where they were found? What sort of culture we're looking at?"

"The report is there," she said. "I'll be back in a few hours to see how you're progressing." She turned towards the door, then stopped and looked over her shoulder. "I should mention, everything you do is monitored, so don't bother trying to get out. Spend too much time away from work and Colonel O'Neill will come."

"Thanks," he said, and she left.

He walked over to the desk and started to put the papers down, but noticed something that drew his attention. Bending close, he realized that there was a massive bloodstain across the top of the desktop. It had sunk deeply, ineradicably into the wood. He stared at it for a long moment, then took a deep breath and looked around. There really wasn't another good place to work. He should be practical about this.

Wondering what the monitors were making of his hesitation, he bit his lip. Then he walked over to the cot and sat down, putting the papers down and pulling out the report to read it.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Monday, April 5_  
Reality L583**

The remainder of the briefing was taken up with a complete tracing of the steps of both O'Neills, which involved much viewing of video footage of Jack walking down hallways. Jack grimaced. Walking down hallways was boring enough without then watching himself do it. Still, it seemed to be incontrovertible that the second Jack O'Neill had come through the transdimensional mirror. They were all agreed on that. There was only one point of contention.

"I'm sure there was only the one intruder," Malkin said for the umpteenth time. Carter looked about ready to tear her hair out at the man's obduracy. Hammond was keeping his council for the moment, and Fraiser had excused herself to check on her patient.

Jack had been silent for awhile, trying and failing to think of a way brute force could be applied to this problem. Now he cleared his throat. They all turned and looked at him. "As it happens, Malkin, just from the evidence we already have, you're clearly wrong."

Malkin blinked at him. "How so, sir?"

"We know that at least two people came through that mirror, the other Jack and the other –"

"Daniel," Carter finished for him. "Of course."

"I meant mobile intruders," Malkin said, flushing.

Jack shrugged. "I have a theory, for what it's worth," he said and waited.

"By all means, colonel," Hammond said.

"I think the other O'Neill had an accomplice," he said. Malkin started to speak and Jack gave the younger officer a stern look that silenced him. "Okay, we know he has some kind of cloaking technology because he wasn't visible when he emerged from the mirror, right?" They nodded and he pursed his lips. "Malkin, can you show us the view of the door opening on its own again?"

Lips pressed tightly together, Malkin started looking for it. Jack fiddled with the pad of paper that someone had foolishly placed in front of him. "Here it is, sir," Malkin said.

Jack dropped the pad and looked up. "Okay, now play it through."

The lieutenant did as he asked, looking irritated and as if he didn't see the point. There it was, a door opening, standing wide open for a count of twenty-five seconds, then closing again, all without any sign of a person near it. "See, that's it." They all looked at him, seeming puzzled. "Come on," he said impatiently. "How long does it take to go through a door? From the time you pull it open till the time you close it behind you?"

Hammond had comprehension dawning in his eyes, and Carter grinned. "Ten seconds at the max," she said. "I see where you're going."

Jack turned to Malkin. "When you're sneaking around, invisible, you aren't going to hold a door open for any longer than you absolutely have to."

"He was holding it open for someone else," Malkin said slowly.

"No doubt someone carrying Daniel," Jack said. "There's no way he had time to go upstairs, deposit the second Daniel in the storeroom, then go back down and appear in that men's room. Not to mention the chance of an early discovery scuttling his plans. And why would he go downstairs at all at that point, if he didn't need to?" He shook his head. "No, he had someone else with him, to carry Daniel and back him up if necessary. That's why he stopped first to open the door to the storeroom in part, to let his accomplice in to set the scene."

Carter nodded. "Then he went in, grabbed our Daniel, dragged him into the storeroom, immobilized him somehow and handed him over to his accomplice." Jack wished he could avoid imagining all the various means a man with his training could use to immobilize a struggling archeologist.

"And why he holds the door open for several seconds before closing it when he comes out again," Malkin said slowly. "You're right, it makes sense."

Jack leaned back and crossed his arms. "So what's our next move?" he asked. "We have to figure out a way to activate that mirror and point ourselves towards the right reality." He had to focus on planning, or he'd start thinking about his Daniel trapped in another reality with a version of him that would leave a man – a Daniel – bleeding and dying in a storeroom without so much as dropping a hint that medical help might be necessary.

"Captain Carter, have you got anything to go on in that direction?" Hammond asked.

"We always meant to do a closer examination of the device, but other things have come up, and since Daniel left the controller in the other reality he went to, we didn't have any easy way to test it."

"He was kind of running for his life, Carter," Jack said.

She looked startled. "I'm not blaming him, sir," she replied. Biting her lip she shrugged. "We're just going to have to jury-rig some kind of a device to control it." Though her tone held confidence, her eyes didn't seem any too hopeful.

"And I'll go see how this Daniel is," Jack said. "See if he can tell us anything about his reality."

"Very good. Thank you all." Hammond stood up. "Dismissed."

Jack exchanged a look with Carter who gave him the briefest of encouraging smiles and then headed to her lab. He watched her go, then headed back to the infirmary. Makepeace was waiting outside the elevator.

"I thought you'd be back sooner or later," Makepeace said. Jack nodded. "I said I'd apologize if it wasn't you, so here I am. I apologize."

"It was the right thing to do," Jack said, shrugging. "I'd have done the same."

"True enough," the marine colonel said. "Well, I've got work to do." With that, he got into the elevator behind Jack and left.

The infirmary was largely empty. None of the missions lately had resulted in injuries that required a long stay in Dr. Fraiser's domain, so the only people present who weren't staff were Daniel . . . this 'other' Daniel . . . and Teal'c.

The archeologist was sleeping. Jack looked down at him and he could see part of why Fraiser was so certain this wasn't their Daniel. Now that he was cleaned up, Jack could see bruises that were definitely older than today. He was sleeping, but his breathing wasn't as deep as one might expect from someone sleeping normally. Jack glanced up at Teal'c. "How has he been?"

"He keeps waking and speaking incoherently," the Jaffa said, looking uncomfortable.

 _Try babbling and it's probably closer,_ Jack thought dryly. "Here, I'll relieve you. Go see if you can help Carter with her tinkering."

The alacrity with which Teal'c accepted this offer spoke volumes about how disturbed he must be by the combination of the wrong Daniel and the delirium. Jack picked up the chart and glanced at it, whistling softly. Kidney's injuries could cause confusion, which probably accounted for disoriented babbling. When Teal'c was gone, Jack pulled a chair over and sat down next to the bed. After awhile, the man beside him began to stir.

Daniel opened his eyes and blinked muzzily at the empty air on the other side of the bed. "No, take the dog away," he said, sounding a bit annoyed. "I don't want a dog in here."

"Daniel, there's no dog," Jack said reassuringly. He was unprepared for the violent reaction he got. The other man stiffened and drew away, turning his head to gaze at him apprehensively.

"Do you have more work for me?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. "I'll do –" He broke off as he raised his right arm and saw the cast. It seemed to spark some kind of memory, because he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His voice was quiet and very tense when he spoke. "Please, I'll do what I can. Don't be angry."

Jack blinked and gulped down rage at the realization that this Daniel was actively afraid of him. "I'm not the one who hurt you," he said hastily. "I mean he – the other Jack – brought you through –"

Daniel's eyes flipped open and he broke in. "He took me through the mirror again?" he asked. Stunned, Jack nodded and Daniel shook his head. "He doesn't like Daniels, so why's he want so many?"

It took Jack a moment to find his voice. "Again? Daniels?"

Daniel nodded. "Can you get Sha're for me, Jack? I need to see Sha're."

Jack gaped at him. "No, Daniel, I can't. She's –" He cast about. "She's not here."

"Oh. I thought I heard her voice." He smiled blissfully. "She has a beautiful voice."

"Yes, she does," Jack agreed, gulping. He had no idea what the situation was with this Daniel's Sha're, and he was desperately afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Daniel looked over at him solemnly. "Could you tell the people in the next room to turn the music down?" he asked. "I think it's keeping me awake."

Jack looked around. The only sounds in this room were the occasional beeps from the monitors. "There isn't any music, Daniel. It's in your head."

The other man squinted, looking thoughtful. "How'd it get there?"

"Just try to ignore it. It'll go away," Jack said.

"Okay." Daniel looked up at the ceiling. "Am I home?" he asked.

Jack chose his words carefully. "You're away from the Jack that hurt you. You're safe."

"Where'd Teal'c go?"

"He's helping Carter with some experiments," Jack replied.

"Ah." Daniel nodded sagely. "Spear-ments. She looking for –" He looked back towards the place he'd looked at originally. "No, get off the bed," he said. "Could you please take that dog away?"

The conversation went on like that, Daniel was indeed babbling. Eventually he drifted off to sleep again, leaving Jack to try and make sense of what he'd heard. This Daniel had said that he'd been taken through the transdimensional mirror before, and that the other Jack didn't like Daniels, but that he wanted a lot of them.

What had he done to his own Daniel that made him need spares? Or did he still have his own Daniel and was just getting extras? Was he just going from reality to reality, dumping the last one he took in the new one? It was an appalling thought and hard to believe. If that was what he was doing, Jack didn't have any idea how they'd go about stopping him.

And if he dumped their Daniel in another reality, how the hell would they ever find him?

* * *

**Reality A001**

Daniel had finally settled on the floor to do his translation. He'd gathered the requisite texts around him and was deeply engrossed in the history he was gradually taking in. These were a people who had lived under the Goa'uld until their planet's atmosphere had been destroyed by a meteor strike. A few survivors had lived for about a decade, and this history had been written by one of those. Their god had come back about six months after the meteor strike, seen the devastation, and gone right back through the gate, never to return.

It was utterly fascinating how they'd explained this abandonment to themselves. They had reasoned that their god had gone to find a solution to the problem and would one day return to lead them to a glorious new world.

The door opened and Daniel sat up straight. He had his legs crossed and he'd been leaning his elbows on his knees as he worked. As Jack came into the room, radiating hostility, Daniel untangled himself and stood up. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, remembering the order not to speak unless spoken to.

Jack was looking at the books and papers spread out on the floor. His eyes were narrowed and he looked angry. He turned and looked at the barren desk, then beckoned Daniel towards him.

Gulping, Daniel walked over to him. "Got a problem with the desk?" Jack asked, his tone soft and deceptively mild.

"No, I just prefer the floor," Daniel said, not looking at the surface of the desk.

Jack tilted his head, the anger in his eyes growing all out of proportion to the situation. "What, is the desk not good enough for you?" he demanded.

"It's fine," Daniel said hastily. "I just wanted –"

"It's got drawers like other desks, shelves." Jack was demonstrating these features for him.

"I know that," Daniel said, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone.

Jack turned slowly, his lips tight. "You know?" he asked. "You know. Then why aren't you using it?"

"Because I don't want to," Daniel said.

"Get your stuff," Jack ordered. "Move it onto the desk now."

Daniel stared at him. This was ridiculously petty. "I don't want to use the desk," he said. "I can work just as well –"

Jack seized him, moving so quickly that Daniel couldn't follow the individual actions. He suddenly found himself with his face pressed against the wood of the desk, his left arm twisted up behind him. Jack was pressing down, putting weight on his arm at that angle, causing intense pain. Terror spasmed in Daniel's gut. "You will work like a sensible person, at the desk that has been provided for you," Jack growled into his ear. Then he grabbed Daniel by the back of his neck and threw him down on the floor where he'd been working, which sent his papers flying. "Now, get your stuff!"

Ridiculously petty or not, the man was clearly serious and willing to enforce his dictates. Daniel got up onto his knees and started gathering up the papers. He picked them up and put them on the desk, then got the books, trying to conceal the fact that he was shaking. Old habits would have to be watched for. He was so used to sniping back and forth with Jack that he wasn't guarding his tongue as carefully as he should be.

He turned to make sure he hadn't left anything behind. A sudden shove sent him sprawling to the floor again. He landed with a bruising thump, then lay there for a moment, stunned. Hesitantly, he rolled over to see what Jack was doing. The colonel was gazing down at him measuringly, a slight grin on his face.

Fury and fear were making Daniel shake harder than before, and he struggled to contain himself. He hadn't experienced this kind of juvenile hazing since his first years at college. He sat up and inched backwards, far enough that he wouldn't be right on top of Jack when he stood up. It made no difference. Jack walked forward and kicked his legs out from under him before he'd gotten his balance back. "I thought you liked the floor, Daniel," he said as Daniel landed on his butt.

He was being a bully, and if there was one thing Daniel's childhood had taught him to handle, it was bullies. He sat on the floor and didn't look up. There was no point in challenging him.

"Are you playing me, Daniel?" Jack asked, a silken tone to his voice. He grabbed Daniel's hair and jerked his head up and back so that they were looking into each other's eyes. Daniel scrambled onto his knees to ease the pressure. "You are, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you mean," Daniel said, keeping his expression as bland as was possible with his hair twisted in the other man's hand, yanking painfully on his scalp.

Abruptly, Jack shoved him forward, so that he had to catch himself with his hands to avoid smashing his chin against the concrete. "Get your work done. Dinner is in another hour." He walked away, and Daniel stayed on the floor until he heard the door shut.

He levered himself back to his feet and stood still for a moment. How many Daniels had stood in this room, wondering if there was anything they could do that would be right? He turned and walked to the desk with its bloodstained surface and sat down in the chair, trying hard not to wonder if it was the blood of one of his counterparts that had sunk so deeply into the wood.

Slowly, he rearranged the papers so that he could look at them again and opened up the books to show the pages that he needed to see. Then he sat, looking at them but with his thoughts turned inward. What was he going to do? Did they realize at home yet that they had the wrong Daniel? Were they working on a way to get him back? He wished again that he had thought to grab the controller from the other reality. For one thing, if he had, a lot of things might have happened differently there.

Bending again to his task, he began to translate the text from where he had left off, struggling to regain the fascination he had felt so strongly before the interruption.

After another hour, the door opened again, and Daniel turned instantly. It was Lt. Carter. She had a tray of food in her hands. "Dinner time," she said. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small case. "And I thought you might be able to use these." She turned to go, but he reached out to catch her arm. She turned, neatly avoiding his hand. "What?"

"How long did the one before me last?" he asked. "Before he beat him bloody and left him in a storeroom?"

Her lips tightened. "Six weeks," she said. "I'll be back for the tray and to check on your progress in a short while." With that she left, and he didn't try to detain her again.

A month and a half. He ate the food that had been provided, which was standard cafeteria fare, then set it aside and got back to work. At least the Goa'uld seemed to be no different here, just as evil and self-centered as they always were.

Carter came in after awhile and said, "Let me see."

He let her take the papers he'd been working on. "There's only about a page more to translate."

"Good," she said. "When you're done with that, we've got something your predecessor left unfinished." She gave the papers back and then took up the tray to go.

"Sam," he said, almost pleading.

She turned. "I don't know you," she said. "The Daniel I knew is dead."

"And I'm going to be dead soon, aren't I? Or as good as."

"That's not my problem," she said and she walked swiftly to the door.

"When did you get so cold?" he asked and she froze with her back to him, one hand raised to knock. "Or were you always like this?"

Without turning, she said, "The lights will be dimmed in two hours. Good night, Dr. Jackson." She left the room and Daniel turned back to his papers, stifling his emotions as best he could.

His Sam would come up with a solution. She had to. He refused to consider the alternative.

* * *

Samantha handed the tray off to the kitchen helper who was waiting for it. Hammond and O'Neill's orders had been very strict, no one but SG-1 or the general was to be permitted in to see a Daniel. Two of the others had succeeded in gaining sympathy from some of those sent in to tend to their needs, and the general had been furious. And in the end it had all been pointless. Colonel O'Neill had beaten them to a bloody pulp and gone and gotten new ones. This was the seventh Daniel she'd known, including the one that originated here.

She'd made friends with the first one O'Neill had grabbed, but that was before she'd realized that he was going to take out his residual anger at their Daniel on the new one. Well before she'd gotten to watch him pulverize Daniel after Daniel. But the fact was, they needed the information that only Daniel could get. There was no one else who could translate for them.

Her lab was a welcome refuge from stress, a place where she could immerse herself in clean, simple, scientific questions and ignore ethical dilemmas.

"So, Lt. Carter, how does the new Daniel seem to be progressing?"

She turned, startled, to see that Colonel O'Neill had been waiting for her. "Very well, sir," she said. "He's actually translating this document considerably faster than the last two managed it." _That may be because he doesn't have a concussion,_ she thought.

"Good," O'Neill said, and she waited. "Take all the notes the last Daniel left in to him in the morning. We need to learn how to build that device."

"Yes sir," she replied.

"I'm hoping this one can be more practical than some of the others have been. He quieted down in his SGC before I had to break anything or knock him on the head."

"Have you considered taking some kind of tranquilizer, sir?" she asked.

"If we're lucky, we won't need to take another one," he replied, grinning. "Well, I'll leave you to your work, lieutenant."

She watched him go. She'd checked in with Daniel's monitors earlier, and she knew the colonel had already paid Dr. Jackson a friendly little visit. However practical the man could be, it would make no difference in the face of Colonel O'Neill's carefully nurtured animosity.

Settling down to her latest project, she sighed. This one had been made possible by the last Daniel's translation of several pages of an alien physics book. Why did she feel like she was building her work on a pile of corpses?

After making several fruitless attempts to get started, she pulled open the drawer next to her and took out the folded piece of paper she'd found in her locker three days before and read it again.

> Lt. Carter,
> 
> The cycle needs to end, you know it as well as I do. Something drastic needs to be done. If you're tired of watching irreplaceable resources go to waste, meet me for coffee at the Cuppa Café some Wednesday around 6:00.
> 
> An Interested Observer

She bit her lip, considering it. This Daniel had hit her very close to home. She didn't want to see another gentle, intelligent man get beaten to unconsciousness and beyond, then taken away and replaced by a fresh version of himself.

It was Monday. Two days. She had two days to decide. Her mind continued the logical train. And after that she'd have seven more days to decide. And then seven more . . . but it wouldn't stretch out forever. Some of the Daniels had proven to be more stubborn than others, and there was no predicting how this one would turn out. If Colonel O'Neill killed another Daniel . . . could she live with herself?

* * *

True to Lt. Carter's words, the lights dimmed after another two hours and Daniel looked down at the papers. He only had a little more to go, and when his eyes adjusted, there was just enough light left for him to finish.

When he was done, he put the books away and tidied the surface of the desk. He'd begun to ache from bruises where Jack and Kowalski had grabbed or hit him. Going into the bathroom he ran a bath of steaming hot water to soak away the pain as much as possible. He wondered, vaguely, if there was a rule list this Jack had of what Daniels were and weren't allowed to do. He had a feeling, though, that asking for it would not be well received.

When he felt a little more relaxed, he got out and dried himself off, then looked in the cupboard. Sure enough, there was Daniel-sized clothing. Pulling on a pair of pajama pants, he went to the bed and lay down very carefully so as not to reawaken the aches.

Contrary to his expectations, he fell asleep very quickly.

* * *

 _**Tuesday, April 6** _  
**Reality L583**

Jack woke with a start to the concerned eyes of Dr. Fraiser. "You should get some rest, colonel," she said. "You can't stay here all the time."

He blinked blearily and looked over at Daniel. "Someone should be here. He keeps waking up so confused."

"The infirmary is full of people, colonel," she said.

"Not right here," Jack replied. "He needs someone right here."

She looked startled, but shrugged. "Okay. But if you're asleep –"

"I wake up when he moves," Jack said. He swallowed. "It's like when Charlie was sick. You know how that is, don't you?"

Her eyes warmed. "Yes, I do." She stood up straighter. "I'm going to find a bed in one of the barracks myself." Some of his alarm must have shown. "Someone will fetch me if I'm needed, colonel. Don't worry." She gazed at him for a long moment, then glanced at the sleeping Daniel. Squeezing Jack's shoulder, she left the infirmary.

"You don't need to stay." The voice was weak, but it was sincere. "I'm okay."

"Who's going to send away the imaginary dogs that plague you if I go?" Jack asked reasonably.

"Remember the world we live in, Jack. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're imaginary."

"Then it's even more important that I stay," Jack replied.

"Look, I know you don't really like me much anymore," Daniel said, and Jack had the sense that he was clinging to some form of lucidity with teeth and toenails. "You don't have to stick around."

Jack wondered if he was talking about the bastard Jack who'd stolen him or his own Jack. Then he thought it through. If it was the bastard, it wouldn't be so calm.

"Who says I don't like you?" Jack asked.

"You're always growling at me, and you never hang out at my office anymore."

Jack straightened. Sounded like this guy's Jack wasn't that great either. "Don't worry about it, Daniel."

"Why isn't Sha're here? She could relieve you."

The question put a dagger in his heart as he thought about where the Sha're of this reality was. Putting that out of his mind, he leaned over and touched this Daniel's left hand and said, "Don't worry about it, Daniel, go to sleep."

"Don't want to sleep. 'Fraid I'll wake up in the other place."

Jack shook his head. "You're not there anymore, and you're not going back."

Daniel blinked muzzily at him. "'S good to be home," he muttered, then his eyes closed.

Jack patted his hand feeling utterly at sea. When this Daniel came to himself again, he might or might not remember any of these conversations, but he would undoubtedly be devastated to learn that, while he was safe, he was not home. And the level of fear this Daniel had shown towards him initially did not bode well for his Daniel. He hoped Carter was making good progress on that device.

He wondered if this insistence that Sha're should be here to look after him was the confusion talking, or if this Daniel's Sha're was actually safe and in Colorado. If that was the case, what had driven this Daniel to be a member of the SGC, and was he on SG-1? He had so many questions, but no way to get answers. He couldn't exactly shake this man awake and demand them, much as he'd like to.

He glanced at the clock. One a.m. What was his Daniel doing?

* * *

Sam stretched and squinted her eyes against the weariness that was threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn't stop. While their Daniel was in the hands of someone like that Jack, she couldn't abandon work on anything that might bring him home that much sooner.

Blinking her eyes to clear herself of the fog that was clouding her brain, she bent to her tools again, only to have them gently removed from her hands. "Teal'c!" she exclaimed. "I have to –"

"You must rest, Captain Carter," the Jaffa said firmly. "It will do DanielJackson no good if you wear yourself out, and you will work better when you have rested."

"I need to try this, Teal'c," she said, holding her hands out for her tools. "I need to keep working." Her stern tone was marred a bit by the enormous yawn that interrupted her words.

He shook his head and put the tools on the workbench out of her reach. "You must rest, Captain Carter. DanielJackson would be the first to say so."

She looked over at the clock. "I can pull all-nighters, Teal'c, I'm good at it," she said. "It's only three a.m."

He looked very seriously at her. "Can you solve this problem tonight?" he said. She bit her lip and shook her head. "Can you solve it tomorrow if you stay up all night?"

"I don't think so," she admitted.

"Then you must take rest now. If you could solve it in one large stretch of time, I would be in favor of your doing so, but since that is not the case . . ."

"I get you. If I'm in this for the long haul, I need to get rest so I last."

"Indeed."

She stood up. "Good night, Teal'c. Where's the colonel?"

"With the DanielJackson that was left here by the other O'Neill," Teal'c said. "I will go and relieve him now."

"Be nice to Daniel," she said as they parted ways outside her office. "He's very much like our Daniel, I'd imagine."

"I find his illness very . . . disturbing."

"So do I," she said frankly. "Good night, Teal'c."

Not surprisingly, she found Janet in the women's barracks. She took the bed next to her and lay flat on her back, staring at the bunk above her. What was Daniel doing right now?

* * *

**Reality A001**

A loud crash shook Daniel awake and he sat up sharply. The lights came on at full strength, and he saw Jack coming towards him, eyes alight with urgency. Behind him came Lt. Carter with some kind of electrical equipment. Jack grabbed his arm and yanked him out of bed as the door slammed shut behind Carter.

"Hurry up, Carter, get that thing ready!" Jack snapped.

"What's going on?" Daniel asked.

"We have a little problem of communication," Jack said, his voice sharp. "You need to talk these people into letting our team go."

Daniel shook his head, bewildered. "I don't understand," he said.

"It's really very simple, Daniel," Jack said, slamming him down in the desk chair and squatting in front of him. "SG-3 went to P(string). They seemed to be getting on okay with the natives, who've met the Goa'uld, but it's been awhile. Makepeace, like the idiot he is, told them they weren't gods, SG-3, I mean, and I guess there was some talk about them being demons or something. At any rate, there was an earthquake, and now half this tribe wants to burn our people as propitiation or something. Unfortunately, their translator died in the quake. We opened a wormhole to see how they were and they managed to contact us. Now the natives can hear us, and you get to talk them out of it."

"From here?" Daniel exclaimed.

"Carter's getting the equipment set up now." He held up a tape recorder. "Listen to this, it's some of the language they speak."

Daniel listened as Carter quickly put the sound equipment together and hooked it into the base system. It sounded like it was related to one of the Semitic languages.

It took three and a half hours of negotiation, and Daniel was wrung out with exhaustion and tension by the end of it, but he could see on the video from the MALP that Makepeace and two others that he didn't recognize were coming through the gate carrying a fourth man. The wormhole closed behind them, cutting off the transmission.

Sometime during the negotiation, Lt. Carter had procured some coffee. Daniel took a swallow of the steaming hot, bitter liquid and stared unseeing at the blank video screen.

"Good job," Jack said, his hand coming down on Daniel's shoulder. He jumped and looked up apprehensively. "Damn, I wish it hadn't been the translator that died. We have few enough of those, and we don't have anyone who can reliably train more."

Daniel saw Carter stiffen, and he realized that the reason they didn't have anyone to train translators was because they no longer had a Daniel they could trust not to try and escape. He looked down at his hands, worried that O'Neill's thoughts would lead in a direction that might prove damaging to him.

Jack's hand shifted till it was resting against the back of Daniel's neck. "We'll just have to bring you along, won't we?" he said cajolingly. "You can be practical, can't you?" He shook Daniel slightly from side to side. "Can't you?"

"Sure," Daniel said, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Sure, Jack."

"Good." Jack smiled down at him. "Go back to bed."

"Okay, Jack," Daniel said, standing up. Jack grinned at him and ruffled his hair. It nearly made Daniel's heart stop. He managed an answering grin and headed to the bed where he lay down and pulled the covers up, turning his back on the room. There was no way he'd get to sleep anytime soon, but he wasn't going to risk this sudden good mood of O'Neill's by telling him so. He just lay there, listening to Jack chivy at Lt. Carter to get the equipment taken down quicker, so they could leave Daniel in peace.

This sudden alteration of mood was deeply alarming. It hadn't even been twelve hours since this Jack had been knocking him to the floor for fun. And what the hell did he mean about being practical? Did he actually cherish the hope that Daniel would stay here willingly?

Daniel heard the door open and shut again. He rolled over to see if they'd gone and found Jack gazing at him from across the room. "You can sleep in tomorrow morning, but I'll still expect a full day's work out of you," he said.

"Right," Daniel replied apprehensively. "No problem."

Jack crossed over to him and squatted. "It's good to have you back," he said, tousling Daniel's hair again. "Now go to sleep, and that's an order."

Daniel nodded and rolled over again. This time, when the door opened and shut, he didn't turn to look, he just tucked himself down deeper in the bed. He recognized the behavior Jack was exhibiting, and it terrified him even more than if he'd just been a violent son of a bitch. It reminded him of a time in his life he'd just as soon forget. He'd have to watch his step carefully.

He shuddered. His stomach was developing knots that would make it hard for him to eat in the morning.

For a long time he just lay there, trying to still his mind enough to sleep, not daring to get up and try another bath to relax his muscles for fear that Jack would view it as rebellion. Eventually, he dropped off to an uneasy sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Tuesday, April 6  
_ Reality L583**

Jack woke up to the sound of Teal'c's deep voice. "You are quite safe, DanielJackson, and no harm will come to you."

"That's good," the weak voice said. Jack sat up. Teal'c had persuaded him to sleep on a bed, but Jack had refused to leave the infirmary. The practical upshot of this was that Jack had slept in one of the infirmary beds. He slipped off the bed and walked over to stand beside Teal'c as Daniel started speaking again. "When did you shave your head, Teal'c?" he asked.

Teal'c blinked. Before Jack could caution him against it, he said, "I have always shaved my head."

The Daniel in the bed looked up at him solemnly with wide eyes for a moment, then he gulped. "I'm in a different alternate reality, aren't I?" he asked. "Not with the violent Jack, because there's no Teal'c there, but not home, either."

"Indeed," Teal'c said.

"And your Daniel?" he asked.

"Taken." Teal'c's voice was calm as always, but it seemed that this Daniel was as perceptive as theirs, because he picked up on the distress.

"I'm sorry," he said. He closed his eyes. "What all is wrong with me? It got sort of blurred together when it was happening."

"Let me get Dr. Fraiser," Jack said. "She can explain it better."

He walked away, only dimly hearing behind him, "Who's Dr. Fraiser?"

Fraiser was in her office. "Up with the lark, I see," he said dryly. "Daniel wants to know what's wrong with him, and since I can't remember medical terms for five minutes together, I thought it would be better for you to tell him." She gave him a dry look, but nodded and came out with him. "Daniel, this is Dr. Janet Fraiser. She's our chief medical doctor around here."

Fraiser looked at him oddly, but then Daniel spoke. "Nice to meet you, but . . . what about Dr. Warner?"

She smiled. "Dr. Warner is in the department," she said reassuringly. "He helped with the surgery that put you back together."

"Oh," Daniel said. "So, how bad off am I? He said he'd cripple me for life."

Jack clenched his fists in impotent anger and waited for Fraiser to talk.

"Well, I wouldn't say you're crippled," she said reassuringly. "First of all, the broken bones you sustained before yesterday, the cracked ribs and the broken foot . . ." She paused and he nodded. "Those are all healing nicely. No problems there. You'll have to stay completely off that foot for another four to five weeks, though."

"Right," Daniel said. "What about . . . there's a gazillion tubes coming out of me. Why?"

She took a deep breath and said, "At the moment you're in acute renal failure."

"I'm dying?" he asked in a numb voice.

"No!" she exclaimed. "No, you'll be fine. Quite often the kidney function will stop due to some shock or trauma the body sustains, and then it will start up again within a few days. If it doesn't, then you'll have to go on dialysis."

"Dialysis," Daniel repeated. "For the rest of my life?"

"It's only a possibility," Fraiser assured him. "I honestly don't expect it to come to that. Your kidneys are bruised, which could easily have caused the kind of shock we're talking about. We're keeping close track of your fluids, so don't worry." He nodded, but he didn't look altogether convinced. "You have three broken ribs and both the bones in your right forearm are broken. The breaks are clean, though, and all should heal just fine."

"That's good to hear," he said.

"You're going to be fine, Daniel," she said firmly, and he looked up, a half smile on his face.

"Thank you, doctor," he said. "I just – please don't take this wrong, but I want to go home."

"I understand," Fraiser said. She checked on his various readouts, touched his cheek lightly, and went back to her office.

"So, where is your Daniel's Sha're?" Daniel asked. "Is she too alarmed by this situation to want to come near me?"

Jack opened his mouth and then glanced at Teal'c who looked as nonplussed as he felt. "No, it's not that," Jack said.

"What's happened to her?" Daniel asked, looking concerned. "Is she dead?"

"She is not dead," Teal'c said, his stoic calm coming back down over his features. "She is host to a Goa'uld."

Daniel just stared up at him, then transferred his appalled look to Jack. "A Goa'uld? What of Skaara?"

"Him too," Jack said, his voice sounding unnaturally flat to himself.

"Your Daniel must be devastated," this Daniel said, voice hushed. "That's half his family right there." Jack nodded. He seemed lost in some private misery for a moment, then said, "Our Skaara is Klorel, Apophis' son."

"As is ours," Teal'c said. "Sha're has been taken by Amunet."

Daniel stared at him, jaw dropped, apparently caught without words. It took him several seconds to find his voice again. "A moment ago, I would have said I couldn't imagine anything worse than Skaara being trained by Apophis, but Amunet . . ." He shook his head, eyes wide with shock. "How dreadful for her and for all of you."

Jack nodded.

"I can't imagine that. We have two kids, twins, Jonny and Kate. Sha're thought they should have English first names since they would be going to schools in Colorado. Jonathon Melbourne and Katherine Neferu."

"How old are they?" Jack asked.

"Not quite two, now," he said, his eyes dimming a bit. "I haven't seen them for six weeks." He blinked a bit. "In fact, what day is it?"

"April 6th," Jack said. Daniel's eyes widened and then they closed. "Daniel, what is it?"

"They turned two on the second," he said in a strangled voice. He turned his face away. "Please, I . . . I need . . ."

"God, what's wrong?" Carter exclaimed from the end of the bed. "Daniel?" She rushed to the other side of the bed and took his hand. "Sir, what did you say to him?"

"Me?" Jack exclaimed, and Daniel chuckled weakly.

"He didn't do anything, Sam," he said. "I mean . . . can I call you Sam? Do you go by Sam?"

"Of course you can," she said, bending and giving him a ginger hug. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he said, disentangling his hand and rubbing his eyes. "Does any of you know where there might be a spare pair of glasses? I think I'm getting a headache."

Carter reached into her pocket. "I thought you might need them," she said, holding out a pair. "Daniel . . . our Daniel keeps a couple of spares in his office."

"I do, too," Daniel said. "I – it –" His control broke and a sob slipped out. He tried to cover his face with his hands, but the right arm was awkward because of the cast. Letting out a stream of fluid curses in some language Jack didn't recognize, he let the right arm fall to the bed again.

"What is it?" Carter asked anxiously.

"He's been gone from home for awhile, Carter, and he has kids."

Her eyes flew wide and she let out a wordless exclamation. "I have to get back to work!" Then she gave Daniel a quick hug and left the infirmary rapidly.

Tears still running down his face, Daniel watched her leave. "What's she working on?" he asked.

"Cobbling together a controller for the mirror," Jack replied.

Daniel stared at him for a long moment, then drew in a shaky breath. "You don't have a controller?" he asked, eyes wide.

"No," Jack said, his brows knitting together. "But Carter –"

"Oh God, I'm never getting home!" Daniel exclaimed and turned his head away.

Jack reached out and took his hand. "We'll get you home, Daniel. Carter's never failed us yet." Teal'c looked utterly confounded, but Jack just pushed him aside and sat down on the edge of the bed, putting an arm around Daniel very gently. "We will get you home, and we will get our Daniel back."

Daniel turned into him and buried his face in Jack's chest, and Jack just let him cry.

* * *

**Reality A001**

Daniel awoke to the sound of pages turning. He shifted, not opening his eyes immediately. His body ached from all the various bruises and bumps he'd gotten the day before. He wanted to know who was in the room with him, but he also didn't want to reveal his interest.

"Good morning, Daniel," Jack said genially and Daniel felt his whole back tense up. He was here.

Daniel didn't dare pretend he was asleep or delay at all. He rolled over and sat up, his feet on the floor. "Good morning," he said.

"I brought you some coffee." Jack pointed to a carafe sitting on the desk. "Food's coming a bit later. None of you ever seems to want to eat right away in the morning."

None of . . . Daniel licked his lips. "Coffee sounds good," he said, standing up and stifling a groan as the muscles in his back objected.

Jack let the book he was reading drop to the desktop and leaned forward. "Are you all right?"

Blinking in disbelief, Daniel took a deep breath and swallowed. "I'm fine."

Jack stood up. "You always say that," he said, walking over. Daniel didn't flinch away from him, but it took monumental effort. In this mood, Jack would probably take a flinch for an insult. Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "You've got to take better care of yourself. I'll have them bring some analgesics in with your food."

"Thanks," Daniel said.

"I've brought in some work for you." Jack guided him over to the desk. "This is a Goa'uld text, I need it translated as soon as possible. Some work has already been done on it, so it shouldn't take too long, I hope."

Daniel nodded. "I'll get right on it."

"Good man," Jack said.

He didn't leave as Daniel had expected him to, so Daniel sat down in the chair and started looking over the pages in front of him. He stiffened slightly with surprise and some alarm when Jack put his hands on his shoulders.

"I know I can be hard on you, Danny, but it's for your own good. You know that, don't you?"

Trying not to imagine how he'd react if his own Jack said something crazy like that, Daniel decided to play along with the demented madman he was trapped with. "Of course, Jack," he said.

"Good. Well, I've got some work to do, so I'll see you later." He squeezed Daniel's shoulders lightly and then left. Daniel shivered when the door shut and wondered if the man knew what he was doing and was playing with him, or if he really was as out of balance as he seemed.

He bent to the task he'd been set, but it was the creepiest thing he'd ever seen. Here were several sheets of paper written in his own handwriting that he'd never seen before. He sorted through them, trying to get a handle on the work that had been done already, and he found one sheet that looked rather as if the Daniel who had been here before him had been writing out phrases in Goa'uld, as if he'd been practicing, or checking the arrangements of words.

At least that's what it would look like to someone who didn't know how to read Goa'uld. Daniel could see that it was something entirely different. For one thing, it was in an extremely obscure dialect of the language, not related to the one the text was written in. He read it with a sinking heart.

If you are reading this, then I've been sent to your reality and you've just been taken. This is the third letter like this I've written, but I really think he's getting past the point of controlling himself now.

Here is my advice. Don't argue. Don't talk back to him. Don't try to escape. Without help, you'd never reach your own reality, and the mirror is well guarded. There's too many elevators between there and here, for one.

Hard as it is, you have to just sit tight, do what he says and pray for rescue.

He can't be reasoned with, so don't even try.

He read through it three times. This was the writing, the thoughts, the warning of the man who had lain bleeding and broken on the floor in that storeroom. Daniel bit his lip. Had he survived? Had anyone found him in time? And what . . . alarm grew in him at the thought . . . what had they made of the surveillance footage that showed him being grabbed and dragged into that storeroom by Jack? A dead or dying Daniel on the floor . . . what if they looked no further? What if they just believed their eyes? What if they simply imprisoned Jack and stopped there?

He shook his head and controlled his thoughts. He had to focus on surviving now. If – When rescue came, it would do him no good if he'd gotten himself killed or traded for a new Daniel. And that thought wasn't comforting either. Some other man, pulled out of his own SGC, his own life, his own world . . . it was not to be considered. He would have to last as long as possible.

Which, at the moment, meant translating this text, so he bent to work. It was disturbing to see how similarly the other Daniel thought about things. It made a certain amount of sense, but still . . . he'd like to think they were different somehow. That this Jack wasn't right to think he just needed a Daniel, any Daniel.

When he came to something he would have translated differently, though, it came as a shock. For a moment, it annoyed him. Upon consideration, though, and much to his chagrin, he decided that the other Daniel had been right.

The door opened and he looked around nervously, but it was only Lt. Carter with a tray of food. "So, how is it you're relegated to maid duties? Seems a bit of a waste of time for the premier scientific mind of the facility to be schlepping trays around."

"Hammond and O'Neill don't trust anyone but SG-1 to look after you. I guess they figure that we're immune to the silver tongue and pathetic looks."

"And you, being a lowly lieutenant, get the scutwork. How fun for you." She gave him an annoyed look and put the tray down. Pancakes, eggs and sausage, with a little bowl of fruit. "Thank you," he said in a less snarky tone.

"This isn't any of it my idea," she said in a defensive tone.

"Any of what?" Daniel asked, all too aware of the recordings she'd informed him were being made. "Jack's the soul of courtesy. He only has my welfare at heart, he just told me so."

Her eyes widened and she gave him a frankly incredulous look. He just kept smiling at her until her eyes widened still further and some form of comprehension dawned. "Of course," she said.

"So, thank you for breakfast, but I'd better get on with my work."

"Right," she said and, backing away, she left the room.

He turned back to the translation and the food. For now, at any rate, he would follow his predecessor's advice.

* * *

Samantha left Dr. Jackson's cell feeling quite startled by the man's reaction. None of the others had settled to the situation nearly so quickly. Of course, none of the others had had the opportunity so early in their stay here to prove their worth. O'Neill was feeling particularly happy today and was being correspondingly friendly towards the prisoner.

She devoutly hoped that this Daniel didn't count on that continuing indefinitely. She had watched the original pair go through so many rounds of that sort of behavior that . . . She shook her head. Their friendship had been an odd one, very disturbing. The colonel had been the leader and Daniel very much the follower, with the colonel acting like a rough and . . . _say it, Samantha_ . . . abusive older brother. It had been a set pattern between the pair of them. Daniel would do something impulsive and stupid, and O'Neill would . . .

Nothing that she could say made either of them recognize what a dangerous and destructive set of habits they'd fallen into. When she'd expressed her concern to General Hammond, he had given her a serious dressing down and demoted her. And he told Colonel O'Neill, who had been very angry with her. It had not improved the team dynamics any, because Daniel had been furious, too. He'd said that Jack was only looking out for him like a friend should. Kowalski had laughed at her worries and told her she was an idiot. Guys were rough with each other, he'd said. She should stop being such a girl.

She sat down at her desk, burying her face in her hands. Then, during one of O'Neill's bouts of abuse, Daniel had hit his head on a doorframe. He'd seemed fine, just a little disoriented, but the doctor said later that he was dead from the moment of impact. Depressed skull fractures could do that. Daniel had refused to see the doctor, the colonel had gotten very worried and made him go to bed, and Daniel had been dead in the morning.

It had been an accident, she was sure of that, but it had sent O'Neill over the edge with both grief and anger. Hammond had been utterly infuriated, and demanded to know what they were going to do without Daniel Jackson. That was when Colonel O'Neill had gotten that mad glint in his eye.

He told Hammond he'd deal with it and disappeared for almost a week. Then he'd come and grabbed Kowalski and her and told them his plan. Their Daniel had gone through the transdimensional mirror – God the beating O'Neill had given him for that idiotic act . . . But O'Neill knew what the mirror was, and what it could do. He'd spent that week reality shopping, trying to work out how the controller worked and find a reality where there was a readily accessible Daniel Jackson.

She wished she'd never figured out how to make those phase shifters. Without them, this whole course of action would have been too risky to be pursued.

That first Daniel had been so confused, so angry, so incredulous, that he hadn't lasted more than three weeks. They hadn't developed a good system for keeping the man under control, and when he was found in the mirror room for the second time, O'Neill had nearly killed him. He'd stood, staring at the unconscious form for several minutes, his expression alarmingly blank, and ordered Kowalski to get the phase shifters. Kowalski had gone without a word, and Samantha had stared in shock.

"Are you going to take him back home?" she'd asked, hoping it was true.

He'd given her a bland look. "You are dismissed, Lt. Carter," he'd said. When she'd tried to argue with him, he'd pushed her out the door. Within two hours he'd returned, another Daniel in tow.

She had no idea how much Hammond really knew about what was going on, but she knew there was no point in talking to him about it. With the general, the only thing that mattered was results. Early on, Kowalski had occasionally seemed a little disturbed, but he always quelled it without too much effort. And lately, she hadn't seen any signs of concern from him at all.

Turning to her computer, she accessed the video log of Dr. Jackson's cell and watched what had happened between Daniel and the colonel after she'd left last night and this morning. It appeared that this Daniel was either more perceptive than any of the others had been, or that he had a similar relationship with his Colonel O'Neill. Given his early reactions, though, she thought the latter was unlikely.

Of course, the colonel hadn't gotten brotherly with any of the others nearly this early, so perhaps that was the difference. This Daniel could see the shape of the man while it was still early enough that he had some of his own control left. She hoped it was that. She didn't know if she could watch another one get broken and bloody.

* * *

Daniel worked his way through that Goa'uld text, but he had no idea how to let anyone know he was done. He glanced up at the ceiling. Any cameras there were had been concealed, no doubt to make it harder for him to circumvent them. He went to the door and knocked on it. Nothing happened, though he heard movement on the other side of the door.

Running his hands through his hair, he sighed and walked out into the middle of the room. Speaking to the air around him, he said, "Could someone please let the folks in charge of me know that I'm done with what I've been given to do?"

Silence. He shook his head. The attempt had been made. There was nothing more he could do. He walked over to the shelves, picked out a book and flopped down on the bed to read. After a few minutes, he was blinking in perplexity. He closed the book and looked at the cover, then flipped to the title page. It was the book he thought it was. He'd read this book a few times before, but he always found something new when he read it again, a new perspective, a different interpretation.

Now he was finding something new, but . . . he shook his head. This wasn't the same book. Or rather, it was, but with a different reality's spin on it. He stood up and looked around the room at all the books. He had in this room a multitude of windows on the mindset of the world he was now in, but he doubted he had enough time to examine them all in the depth he'd need to.

The door opened and he turned to see Jack coming in. "What are you doing?" Jack asked.

"I was just trying to figure out which book I wanted to read while I was waiting," Daniel said very neutrally, trying to project submissiveness. It wasn't easy as nervous and angry as he was.

"The translation is done?" Daniel nodded and picked it up off the desk, holding it out to O'Neill. Jack took it and looked through it. "This is great, Danny. Just what I needed to stall Hammond off for awhile." He turned to the door and knocked. When it opened, he passed the translation out through it and took something from whoever was outside. Daniel stood where he was, only moving enough to put the book down on the desk.

Jack shut the door again. "I should never have let you go on offworld missions," he said, bringing the sheaf of papers towards him. "It only got you into trouble."

Daniel didn't know what to say. This Jack had never let him go anywhere. They'd only known each other just under twenty-four hours, and most of that had been pretty damned unpleasant. Was he really mistaking him for his own Daniel, or did he just think that all Daniels were one and the same? Either was fraught with dangers Daniel couldn't guess at.

"This is much better," Jack said, looking around at the room. "Here you're safe, you're not doing anything that could get you killed, and yet you managed to save our asses anyway."

Daniel was feeling rather rooted to the spot. This Jack was utterly insane or playing it up like he was. Since he'd started being so friendly, Daniel had thought he might be able to play on it and get himself out of the room. It was a game he understood all too well, but this didn't sound promising. He swallowed convulsively and cleared his throat. "But . . . what if there's a foothold situation?" Jack raised his eyebrow and Daniel looked around. "I'd be trapped."

Jack put the sheaf of papers down on the desk and put his hands on Daniel's shoulders. "I'd always come after you, Daniel. You're practically my little brother."

"Thanks, Jack," Daniel managed after a second. "I . . . I appreciate that." There was an aura of expectancy that didn't seem to have been completed by that statement. This was getting far too close to things he didn't want to think about. He managed a smile and said, "I think of you like my older brother."

To his own ears it sounded very lame, but Jack seemed to take it at face value. "So, I've got another project for you. I know I don't have to tell you be quick with it."

"Right," Daniel said. "I'll get right on it."

Jack grinned, squeezed his shoulders and then left. Daniel turned to the desk and sat down. His hands were shaking, so he tried to conceal that by placing them flat on the desk. His breakfast was sitting uneasily on his stomach now.

He wanted his Jack to come through that door right now and get him home.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Tuesday, April 6  
_ Reality L583**

Between his injuries and the turbulence of his emotions, their borrowed Daniel wore himself out quickly and fell asleep. Jack got him positioned more comfortably on the bed and sat back to look at him. His anger at his counterpart in the other reality was growing. He could not imagine what could possibly turn a Jack O'Neill into a serial kidnapper and brutal beater of Daniel Jacksons.

And there was literally nothing he could do about it. Not unless Carter magicked up a controller for that damned mirror.

He sat there, watching Dr. Daniel Jackson, father of two, sleep peacefully. Eventually, Hammond showed up. "I've had reports from Dr. Fraiser on the patient's physical condition. Did he tell you much?"

"A bit," Jack said. He stood up and took the general a little farther off. "Our realities are a bit different, it seems. His Sha're was never captured by the Goa'uld."

"Really?" Hammond looked at the sleeping man with wide eyes. "Then what caused him to join the SGC?"

"At a guess, it's because Skaara was taken. But . . . sir . . ." Jack paused and Hammond raised his eyebrows. "He brought Sha're with him to Earth. They have twins, a girl and a boy. Jonny and Kate."

"My God!" Hammond exclaimed. "How . . . they can't be very old, can they?"

"They turned two on Friday," Jack said. "And he's been away from them and his reality for six weeks."

Hammond looked again at the sleeping Daniel, shaking his head. "I just don't understand what could have made anyone think this was acceptable behavior."

"I surely don't know," Jack said. "And I don't know what we're going to do, sir."

"Everything we can. That's all we can do."

* * *

**Reality A001**

Daniel fell into bed at the end of the day, eyes burning and utterly exhausted. He'd barely picked at his dinner because the knot in his gut had grown to the size of a Plymouth. Jack had come in twice, all sugar and sweetness, but Daniel was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, which made it nearly impossible to concentrate.

It was considerably easier when Jack wasn't in the room, but he could hardly tell him, "Hey, Jack, when you enter the room, my guts start churning acid and the muscles in my back start twitching, so could you just . . . run along?" He had a feeling that Jack's reaction would be both unprintable and violent.

Sleep was long in coming, and when it finally came, it was full of uneasy and disturbing dreams.

* * *

_**Sunday, April 11** _

Samantha was quietly watching Daniel's days. Since the late night rescue of SG-3, O'Neill had been behaving in a friendlier fashion, but he hadn't yet noticed that Daniel wasn't eating nearly enough. She could see the lines of tension in the man's shoulders and neck, but O'Neill would miss them, willfully blind to Daniel's distress. The food, however, he would notice eventually.

Still, by this point, most of the others had suffered some serious injury. They'd certainly been more of a punching bag than this Daniel had been so far. That note in her drawer was always on her mind as she worked, as she watched, as she drove home and made dinner for herself.

Wednesday had come and gone, but she'd been hard at work on a project at six o'clock. Things weren't being nearly as bad for this Daniel as they had been for the others. It had been nearly a week now, and Jack hadn't gotten violent with him once. Maybe she was wrong to worry. Maybe this one would be the replacement they were looking for.

The thought made her sick to her stomach, but she pushed that away. She'd just have to try her best to make sure this Daniel could last.

The timer beside her computer beeped, and she went to turn it off. Time to fetch Daniel's dinner tray. She tapped a key on her keyboard to call up her screen again. Daniel had pushed the tray aside and was working on his latest project. There was an awful lot of food still on the tray.

Sighing, she shut the monitor down and went down to Daniel's cell. The guard on the left side of the door nodded and slid his card to open it. Pulling the door open, she went in and the guard shut it behind her. Not for the first time, she wondered what the airmen who rotated on this duty made of this situation. As soon as the door opened, Daniel turned, and his wary expression softened very slightly when he saw her.

She walked over to the desk. "Dr. Jackson, you aren't eating enough," she said.

His face closed down completely, and he turned away from her. "I've eaten what I want." His voice was flat with tension.

Samantha bit her lip. She didn't particularly want to add to his tension, but she also didn't want him to run into trouble. "Well, if you don't start eating a little more sensibly, Colonel O'Neill will be very unhappy."

His hands stilled. When he spoke, his voice was quieter and still more tense. "I've eaten as much as I can."

"Still, you need to eat more. Colonel O'Neill won't like it if you start losing weight."

"It's better than throwing up," he said, sounding a little irritated. Then, with an odd little glance towards the ceiling, he added, "I'm having some stomach trouble."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Well, why don't I get you some tea to help settle your stomach and then you can try to eat some more."

He shuddered so slightly that she couldn't see it, but she could feel it. "I'd appreciate that," he said. "Thank you."

She went back to her office and pulled out some peppermint tea from her stash, then she stopped by the kitchen for hot water and a mug. As she started back towards Daniel's room, she ran into Kowalski. "How's the newest Dr. Jackson doing?" he asked. During the Daniel crisis, he'd been detached from SG-1, and so he'd been offworld for the past few days. He only worked with them when it was time to fetch a new . . . she shied away from the word her mind supplied. _Victim._

"Very well," she said.

"He break anything yet?"

She shook her head. "There haven't been any problems at all," she replied.

"That's great, lieutenant," he said, grinning. "See you later."

She nodded and went on. When she reached the room, the guard pulled the door open for her. To her surprise, Colonel O'Neill was sitting in a chair next to Daniel's desk. Daniel was sitting ramrod straight in his chair. O'Neill looked up when she came in. "Good evening, Lt. Carter," he said formally, smiling at her. "Daniel said you were bringing him some tea to help him finish his dinner."

"I am," she said.

"Were you going to tell me he wasn't feeling well?"

She blinked. "I was hoping that this would solve it. If it continued, of course I'd mention it."

He raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Well, bring it here," he said with a hint of impatience. "Daniel can't drink it from over there."

She told her legs to start moving again and carried the tea to the desk. The colonel must have brought the chair in with him, because there had only been one chair in here when she left. She put the mug down on the table. "It's probably got another minute or so to steep."

"Thank you, lieutenant," Daniel said, looking up at her with an incredibly trapped look in his eyes. "It's very kind."

"No problem," she replied.

"Well, unless you need something else, Daniel, I think that's all, Carter."

The archeologist licked his lips and shook his head. "No, no, I think I'm good."

She nodded and left. Had he been watching the security footage? No, he wouldn't have said that Daniel told him about the tea then. Someone must have reported the exchange to him. If he was keeping that close a watch . . . poor Daniel.

* * *

"Seriously, Daniel, you should have told me you didn't feel well," Jack said for the third or fourth time.

Daniel was sitting with his hands folded in his lap, looking down. When Lt. Carter had left, he'd felt very abandoned, but it wasn't as if she'd had a choice. "I'm sorry. I thought it would pass, and I didn't want to bother you."

Jack put his hand on Daniel's neck. "It wouldn't have been a bother. I want you to promise to tell me when you feel sick. I think it's been a minute. Carter's tea should be ready, if you want to drink it."

Daniel nodded and reached out. He removed the tea bag and took a sip, hoping it would loosen the knot of tension that was making food so unpalatable. That seemed very unlikely, though, with this Jack sitting less than two feet away.

Since that first day, Jack hadn't hit him or shoved him or anything, but Daniel wasn't going to trust that would last. He knew only too well that all it would take was a bad day or a bad mood. Carter's warning seemed to have been apt, though, even if his response had drawn this down. He drank another sip of the tea, concentrating on trying to calm his gut.

"Is it the food?" Jack asked. "I can see if we can get you something more to your taste."

Daniel shook his head. "No, it's probably just . . . I get this way sometimes."

"Is the tea helping?"

"It is," Daniel said. He swallowed some more. Then he put the tea aside and pulled the tray back over. Cold macaroni and cheese wasn't exactly appealing, but if he needed to eat to get Jack out of the room, eat he would.

He forced the rest of it down, somehow managing to appear as if he were enjoying it. O'Neill watched with approval. But as Daniel put the fork down after the last bite, he felt a distinctly uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

"There, that should be better," Jack said, patting him on the back. "How are you –"

The pat on the back was one stimulus too many. Daniel got up abruptly. Jack looked startled and rose with him, but Daniel shoved him out of the way and ran to the bathroom. He rid himself unceremoniously of his meal, but that wasn't all. He kept retching until there was less than nothing left. His skin felt clammy and his heart was racing. He sat back, breathing shallowly. His gut still felt uneasy, but the dry heaves seemed to have left him.

He was aware that Jack was beside him, and he waited with resignation for the anger that was sure to come at his lack of appreciation for the food he'd been provided. It didn't make an appearance.

Wordlessly, Jack helped him to his feet and over to sit on the edge of the tub. He handed Daniel a glass of water and flushed the toilet, cleaning up the vile splashes without comment. Daniel rinsed out his mouth and swallowed a tiny sip of water. Then he sat, holding the glass in both hands because they were shaking. Jack put a hand under his chin and lifted his face.

"You don't look well at all," he said. Turning to the sink, he wet a washcloth and wiped Daniel's face with it. "Drink some more if you can, then I'm putting you to bed."

Daniel managed to get a couple more sips of water down, but it wasn't easy. Then Jack took the glass and helped him to his feet. Movement made him feel very queasy, but Jack seemed to sense this and didn't make him go too fast. He flipped the covers back and got Daniel sitting down, then helped him slip out of most of his clothes.

When Daniel was in bed and covered up, he said, "I'll be back shortly. Stay right here."

Daniel closed his eyes. This was more than stress. He thought he might really be sick. He wondered what that might mean in terms of how they'd behave towards him. Jack seemed very concerned, but how long would that last?

* * *

**Reality L583**

The alternate Daniel was recovering well. His kidneys had come back on line after about thirty-six hours and now Fraiser had declared his system back to normal. He'd spent a lot of his recovery time reading and declining to engage in conversation. They'd restricted access to the infirmary, but that hadn't stopped people from sending cards and balloons by the ton, since they hadn't announced that the Daniel in the infirmary wasn't their Daniel.

They were keeping him company despite his unwillingness to talk to them. Teal'c took the night shift and most of the morning while Jack took care of the administrative portions of his job. Then Jack took the rest of the day. He brought files and books and worked while he sat there, but he stayed all day nevertheless. This Daniel was depressed and very isolated, so Jack wasn't about to leave him alone on top of it all.

Fraiser had shifted him back to the small space at the back of the infirmary. It wasn't closed off, so it wasn't technically an isolation ward, but it was small enough that there was only room for one bed and the attendant equipment. This way, other infirmary patients didn't try to talk to a man who didn't know them.

Unfortunately, to keep the fiction up, they had to bring all the gifts intended for their Daniel in here so that people didn't wonder why Daniel was rejecting them.

It would be one week tomorrow since he'd arrived here, and Jack was wondering if he was just a quieter man than their Daniel. It was hard to imagine a quiet Daniel.

He was reviewing team rotations, trying to make sure everything was covered without SG-1. It wasn't the easiest of tasks. They were having to put off a couple of missions because they required a linguist of Daniel's caliber. He juggled a couple of the suggested dispositions and sat back to study the effect.

"Your Daniel is very popular." Jack looked up from his work to see the injured man beside him looking at the pile of chocolate, gourmet coffee and get well cards.

"He is," Jack agreed.

"I got a pretty similar pile when my appendix went," he said, smiling. "There's nothing quite like having your appendix go acute on a mission."

Jack's eyes widened, and he decided he'd have Fraiser give their Daniel's appendix a good look when he got back. "I'd guess not," he said. "How bad was it?"

"Bad enough," Daniel said, snorting. "Could have been worse, though, I suppose. Could have happened while I was with Nem or something like that."

Jack gave that event some thought and shuddered. "That would have been bad."

Daniel nodded fervently. "It was bad enough when it did happen. There we were, on PJ2-445, convinced we'd brought a plague with us, and I start having intense pain and nausea. It sent us in a very wrong direction for a little while, till Warner realized that it was just my appendix."

Jack thought for a moment. "The planet with the natives that didn't talk and were in some kind of sound symbiosis with the weird plants?"

"Yeah, that one," Daniel said, grinning slightly. "I've wondered how similar our realities were. How many missions we've shared, and if you've gone places we haven't. I mean, the computer spits out the destinations somewhat at random. All it would take would be a series of different connections in the program and you'd go someplace entirely different. Could be interesting to compare notes."

Jack blinked. "I hadn't thought about it that way," he said. "I suppose . . . I don't know."

Daniel shrugged. "God, I hate broken ribs."

"How soon did the other Jack . . . I mean, how quickly did he start beating on you?"

That very mobile face went quite still. "He was pretty low key at first," he said. "Pushing, shoving, that kind of thing. It wasn't until the second week, when I tried to escape, that he broke my . . ." He trailed off and was silent for a moment. "What does it matter?"

Jack closed his eyes and swallowed the anger that was building. "The man who came home with me and stayed at my place the night after his wife and her brother were taken by Apophis is with that bastard right now, and I want to know what he might be facing."

Daniel was silent for a moment and then he cleared his throat. "When I tried to escape, he broke my foot, and that seemed to trigger a spate of greater violence that didn't stop for three or four days. He'd knock me down, wait for me to get up and then knock me down again." Jack bit his lip, his fists clenched as he imagined his Daniel in that situation. "Look, there's no point to this. You getting an ulcer thinking about what might be happening to him isn't going to help either him or you."

Jack grimaced. "I just hate not knowing and not being able to do anything. I assure you, if your Jack is anything like me, he grilled the man who got left in your place just the same."

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know how much like you my Jack is," he said. "We . . . we haven't been getting along all that well lately."

He raised an eyebrow. "What started it?" he asked.

Daniel picked up a bookmark and closed his book. "It's hard to put my finger on it exactly. This whole year has been kind of up and down. He was pretty angry with me after I got myself attacked in Hadante, and it seems like every time I get hurt on a mission . . . I don't think he wants me on the team anymore. I think he thinks I'm a liability."

Jack blinked at him, contemplating the common denominators in that explanation, and a light bulb turned on his head. "You have two kids."

"I know," Daniel replied, brows knitting.

"Does your Jack . . ." He bit his lip. "Does he still have Charlie?" The thought of a Jack O'Neill who never lost his son struck Jack to the core of his being.

Daniel's eyes darkened. "No. He died before I ever met Jack."

"And Sarah?"

"Remarried," Daniel said. "She moved to the east coast about six months ago. It really tore him up."

"Like putting the lid on the coffin of something that was already dead," Jack said, thinking about his own Sarah. She was in stasis for him since the last time he saw her, and he never went to see her for that reason. "Before that happened, he could pretend things could go back."

"I guess," Daniel said, blinking thoughtfully. "I . . . he never wanted to talk about it."

"To a man who has what he's lost?" Jack shook his head. "That's one of the things my Daniel and I share, the lost possibilities. We still hope to recover Sha're, but it's been nearly two years. She's already had a child by Apophis. Things can never be what they were for them."

"I see what you mean," Daniel said thoughtfully.

"And every time you touch something you shouldn't touch, every time you impulsively leap forward and start talking before your Jack's sure it's safe, you risk that."

"It's my job," Daniel protested.

"I know that," Jack said impatiently. "I'm sure he knows that. And I'm not saying you shouldn't, but that's probably part of the problem."

Daniel opened his mouth as if to speak, then subsided looking very pensive. After a couple of minutes, he sighed. "I think I understand. Now I just have to . . . I hope I get home to apply that understanding."

"We're going to get you home," Jack said with determination. "Don't even wonder about that."

A smile played around the other man's lips. "You're certainly as stubborn as my Jack."

"So, tell me about your kids. I'd love to hear about them. I'm . . . I've got to wonder what baby Daniel Jacksons are like."

"They're Sha're's, too, you know," Daniel said, grinning.

"Of course, but still . . ." Jack shook his head, caught by the image. "So, they're beautiful, courageous brainiacs with no impulse control?"

Daniel blinked at him with a dubious expression. "They're two, Jack. Of course they have no impulse control."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I was kidding, Daniel. Seriously, by now they have to have personality showing, so tell me about them."

"Well . . . Kate dotes on my Jack," Daniel said, his eyes smiling. "When he comes over, she flirts with him outrageously. Jonny is always . . . he drove Sha're nuts, constantly climbing out of his crib. We'd find him in all sorts of places around the house. She just about had a conniption when she found him digging in the trash. Both of them are as fluent as they can be at their age in both English and the Abydonian dialect of ancient Egyptian."

Jack smiled despite the pangs of loss and guilt he felt. "What do they look like?"

"Oh, like Sha're," Daniel said. "Genetically that was inevitable. She says Kate has my bones, though, but I'm not so sure."

The guilt Jack felt at the time it was taking to find and free Sha're from Apophis was becoming overwhelming. This man had lived an additional two years with that beautiful girl who had so firmly claimed him on Abydos, whereas his Daniel . . .

He shook his head. "Oh, I'm sure Sha're's right," he managed to say, but Daniel was looking at him oddly.

"This is being very hard on you," he said.

Jack shrugged. "I promised Daniel we'd get her back. We haven't."

"If it's possible, you will," Daniel said.

"Yeah," Jack said. "Yeah, we will."

* * *

**Reality A001**

Samantha nodded for the eighth or ninth time. "So, if the kitchen gives you anything other than clear liquids, you're to refuse it."

"Yes sir," she said. He'd been lecturing her on what was and wasn't to be given to Daniel since he'd come in. The doctor had diagnosed him with some kind of stomach flu, and his recommendations had taken on the aura of word from on high as far as Colonel O'Neill was concerned. She hadn't seen him so concerned about the health of a Daniel since their original died.

"Good, we'll –"

The sound of a throat clearing in the doorway made them both jump and she turned to see the general standing there. She came to attention immediately and saluted, as did Colonel O'Neill.

"As you were," General Hammond said, walking into the room. "I understand the new Dr. Jackson is sick."

"Yes sir, the doctor thinks it's some kind of stomach flu."

"Then don't you think we should dump him and find another who isn't ill?" Hammond said, raising his eyebrows. Sam stood as stiff as a wooden soldier. That answered a question she'd had for awhile. Hammond clearly knew exactly what was going on and was encouraging it. Apparently he even considered the flu to be sufficient cause to discard one. She waited in dread to hear Colonel O'Neill's reply.

"No, sir," O'Neill said to her surprise. "This is the most cooperative Daniel we've had to date, sir. I think it would be foolish to dump him over something as trivial as the stomach flu. I haven't had to discipline him since the first day."

"I have noticed a higher than usual proportion of work coming out of him," Hammond agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "Well, so long as he doesn't remain ill for an extended period of time, we'll keep him."

"Thank you, sir," O'Neill said, saluting again.

"Keep up the good work." Hammond nodded and left.

O'Neill stood silent for a long moment after the general had gone, and then he turned. He took her by the shoulders and looked intently into her eyes. "We have to make sure he gets better quickly. I'm not trading this Daniel if I can help it. This is the one, Carter, I'm sure of it. If he . . . if he's still sick tomorrow we'll have to come up with something, some way to convince the general that he's worth it."

She nodded. "Of course, sir. We'll find a way."

"Good. I'm glad you're on board, Carter."

She smiled warily. "Yes sir," she said. "Thank you, sir."

"Now, I want someone with him, and I have some work I need to do. I don't want Hammond deciding he's too much trouble because I'm not getting my work done. When I finish, I'll come take over."

"Yes sir." Grabbing a couple of files and a book, she went straight to Daniel's room where he lay on his bed, sleeping fitfully. Quietly, so as not to wake him, she sat down at the desk and started working.

What did Colonel O'Neill mean, this was 'the one'? How far around the bend had he really gone? She pushed the questions out of her mind and set to work, keeping one eye on Daniel.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Monday, April 12_ **  
**Reality A001**

Daniel leaned up against the bookcase that was at the head of the cot that served him for a bed, sipping slowly at the broth Lt. Carter had given him. She was sitting at the desk. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Better," he said, though it wasn't entirely true. Anything solid was going to come right back up again. "Not quite well," he amended at Jack's worried look, "but better."

The door opened, which startled him. The only people he'd seen in the week since he'd come here were Lt. Carter and Jack. Two young airmen came in, rolling in a real bed. Jack was suddenly beside him. "Let's get you up, Danny, so they can make the swap."

Daniel got to his feet and swayed a little. His gut was not happy with the change in positions. If this was one of those twenty-four hour bugs, he still had a few hours to go.

Abruptly, he handed the mug off to Jack and rushed into the bathroom. There wasn't anything more substantial than broth in his stomach, but it all came up regardless, leaving him sweaty and trembling once more. When he looked up, there was Jack again, helping him. This was disturbing. At the moment this man seemed so much like his own Jack, but there was still that sense of something being off kilter, just not quite right.

He looked up. "Could you . . . I need a bath . . . could you leave me alone for a bit?"

"I've seen you naked before, Daniel. Let me help you."

Daniel gulped. His Jack had seen him naked, along with half the rest of the SGC at various points in the showers, but this man hadn't. _What difference does it make?_ he thought, though, after a moment. "Sure," he said, and Jack shifted him to sit on the toilet while he started running the bathtub full of water.

"Stay right there," Jack said, then went into the main room. Daniel closed his eyes and leaned against the wall next to the toilet, feeling utterly wretched. He probably needed the help, unfortunately. Getting undressed sounded like it would take too much energy, and he wasn't wearing anything more than undershorts and pants.

Jack came back in and stopped the water, then helped him into it. Daniel washed himself off, and it took almost all the energy he had left. Drying himself off took care of the rest of it and Jack half-carried him to that bed. They'd shifted things so that the bed was in the corner next to the door to the bathroom, so he didn't have far to go. Jack got him into the bed and lying down, and he fell asleep before he knew what was going on.

* * *

**Reality L583**

"Haven't you got anything I could do?" Daniel demanded as Jack came into the infirmary. "I'm going to go stark raving bananas sitting in here with nothing to do."

"We didn't want to take advantage," Jack said.

"Take advantage! Please!" Daniel exclaimed. "I'm bored out of my mind."

"And there is the little matter of classified material."

Daniel stared at him in shock. "Classified . . . I have clearance, Jack!"

"In another reality."

"Who am I going to tell?" Daniel demanded, gesturing at the room around him.

"Unfortunately, we don't know how long you're going to end up staying here," Jack said. "Carter's still working, but I don't now how soon . . ."

Daniel closed his eyes. "Well, since I somehow doubt you're going to let me leave the base, I'm not sure how much difference that makes."

"Oh, I don't know. Someone has to feed Daniel's fish."

Daniel shook his head. "All of that is beside the point. I will be insane before much longer if you keep me here with nothing to do. Give me something! Anything! Simple translations! There's got to be a backlog."

"I'll check with Hammond, but I can't promise you anything." The man looked at him with such desperation Jack said, "Fine, I'll go check now. Here have a chocolate bar to –" He looked at the stack of candy as he picked the bar up. "You aren't eating any of this?"

Daniel blinked at him. "It's not mine."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I certain our Daniel wouldn't begrudge you some chocolate. Eat up." Daniel was giving him a dubious look. "Eat up or I'll sic Carter on you."

"Sic Carter on me? What's that supposed to mean?"

There was a brief silence, then Jack grinned wickedly. "You have a wife. I'll bet you haven't experienced Carter at her most deadly." The other man looked utterly baffled. "Mama Carter. I'll just go tell her that you're wasting away, but that you won't listen to me. Maybe she could get you to . . ."

"Stop," Daniel exclaimed, eyes wide. "She's like that over your Daniel?"

"Our Daniel is all alone in the world and hadn't a thing to his name when he came back from Abydos. She took over." Jack snorted. "She does his shopping for him."

"Food?"

"Clothing. She drags him to the mall and picks things out for him."

"Wow." Daniel shook his head. "Fine, since you insist, I'll eat a candy bar."

"Good." Jack put his own projects down and went down to Hammond's office.

The general beckoned him in and gestured that he close the door as he finished up a phone call. After a couple of minutes, he hung up and said, "What can I help you with, colonel?"

"Daniel, the one in the infirmary, says he's going to go crazy if we don't give him something to do."

Hammond looked grave, then thoughtful. "Do you think we can trust him?"

Pursing his lips, Jack considered his own gut feelings on the matter. "Yes, sir, I do. He . . . I don't know, he _feels_ like Daniel."

"Then I will take your judgment, colonel. Ask Dr. Rothman to sort out some projects that need doing but aren't too sensitive."

"Yes sir. What should I tell him?"

Hammond's brows knit. "Dr. Rothman?"

"Yes sir."

"He's been fussing quietly to be allowed in to see Dr. Jackson, and they are close friends." Hammond paused, clearly weighing the facts. "The man has clearance to be here. Tell him the truth. Maybe it will reconcile him to not being allowed in to see Dr. Jackson."

"Or maybe it will broaden our available pool of people to sit with him," Jack said. "I don't think Teal'c's altogether comfortable with the situation."

"We'll see, colonel. For now, just tell him what's going on and get him to find some things for Dr. Jackson to work on."

"Right."

Jack went back up to the anthropology department and stood outside Robert Rothman's door for a moment, hesitating. The man irritated the living daylights out of him, but he'd been Daniel's friend since college. Daniel had recommended him for this post, and Jack had never heard about any problems with him. He was just such an annoying, pedantic little . . .

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

After a bit of shuffling, the door opened and Rothman looked up at him suspiciously. "So, are you here to tell me why I can't see Daniel?" he asked without preamble.

"Yup!"

Rothman blinked myopically at him. "Come in, then," he said, grudgingly stepping back. Jack entered the cramped little office and shut the door behind him. Rothman cleared off a spare chair then sat down. "So, why is it then?"

"You can't see Daniel because I can't see Daniel."

"You're in there every day!" Rothman exclaimed, glaring. "I –"

"Let me finish, Dr. Rothman," Jack said, giving the academic an irritated look. Rothman subsided. "You're cleared to hear this, but you can't talk about it because nobody else is, okay?"

"Um . . . yeah, whatever. What's going on?"

"The man in the infirmary isn't Daniel Jackson." Rothman's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. Jack held up a restraining hand. "Or rather, he is, but he's not _our_ Daniel Jackson."

"I don't understand."

"He came through the transdimensional mirror." Rothman's eyes widened. "I take it our Daniel told you something about that?"

"He did." Rothman looked stunned. "But then . . . where's our Daniel?"

Jack grimaced. "In the evil universe of doom," he said glumly. "He was abducted."

"By whom?"

"By the me from that universe. He left the Daniel we have in the infirmary here and took ours. And when he took the guy in the infirmary, he left another one behind in his reality, so we're not really sure how many he's done this to."

"Good lord," Rothman exclaimed. "That's terrible!"

"Yeah," Jack said. "So, the reason I'm telling you all this is that the Daniel in the infirmary is getting bored out of his skull with nothing to do. So you need to find him some nice, non-sensitive stuff that he can work on."

"But . . ." Rothman shook his head. "I can't read half the stuff Daniel does. We wouldn't know if it was sensitive or not until that guy told us what it said."

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Surely, Rothman, you can find something in the enormous backlog that our Daniel's always complaining about that this Daniel can work on.

"Sure, I can do that," Rothman said. "Come on, let's go take a look in his office."

In short order, Jack had an armful of stuff to take to Daniel, including ancillary notes and reference materials, and Rothman had a list of things to submit to Hammond because he knew Daniel thought they had some kind of special urgency.

Jack went up to the infirmary with his armload and Fraiser looked at him like he was crazy. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Bringing Daniel something to do."

"Are you out of your mind? He's still unwell and . . . and . . ."

Jack kept heading towards the back room, so she followed him. "Colonel O'Neill, I –"

"Oh thank you!" Daniel exclaimed with relief when he saw the papers and books. "Our Hammond can be something of a stickler, but I really hoped you could persuade yours to go for this."

"Dr. Jackson, you're not really up to this," Fraiser started.

"I wouldn't be doing it if I wasn't, doctor," Daniel said, giving her a sweet smile. "And trust me, if I'm feeling too tired, I'll stop. Sha're's given me enough lectures on that subject that I'm not likely to forget."

Fraiser smiled, caught by the charm of the man, and Jack marveled at how potent it was. "All right," she said reluctantly. "If you're certain."

"I am," Daniel said. "I'm just not the kind of man who can sit doing nothing useful."

Jack put the work on the wheeled table beside the bed. "Well, just be sure not to tire yourself out," she said dubiously. Daniel nodded, the very picture of innocence.

After Fraiser had left, Daniel looked at him and said, "She's a little tyrant, isn't she?"

"Very much so," Jack replied. "But she's the best damned doctor we could have. You might see if you can find her in your reality. If she's anything like our Janet Fraiser, you won't regret it."

"I may just suggest that to Jack when . . . when I get back."

Jack rolled the table in front of him. "There. I'm not sure what any of this is. Rothman pulled it together, and he said he thought he had all the reference materials you'd need."

"Rothman?" Daniel asked. "Robert Rothman?"

"Yeah, Daniel brought him into the program awhile back. He seems to be working out okay."

"God, I'd think he'd drive you nuts," Daniel said.

"He does, but I don't have to work with him." Jack grinned. "I'll stick with the awkward, goofy academic I have, thanks."

"I think I can reasonably speak for your Daniel when I say, 'Thanks, Jack."

Jack stared. That tone was too . . . he turned away and rubbed at his eyes. "I've got . . . I've got some work to do."

"Oh. Sorry." Daniel sounded very contrite.

Jack blinked a couple of times then turned back. "For what?" he asked brightly. Daniel very wisely got the point and they settled to work on their separate projects.

* * *

**Reality A001**

Jack left after awhile, saying something about placating Hammond, and Daniel looked over at Carter. "Could you hand me that book and the papers underneath it?"

"What?" she asked, looking up from something. He couldn't see what she was working on.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted some complicated calculation, but I should probably get back to work. I'd imagine Jack would be happier if I was getting something done."

"I don't know, Daniel," she said. "I think he might be a little pissed if I let you work right now. He's very worried."

"I hate sitting still, and the only thing I have to think about right now his how wretched my stomach feels." He let a note of pleading enter his voice. "Come on, Sam."

"Samantha," she said absently, looking lost in thought. "No one's called me Sam since my dad died."

"You don't like it?" Daniel asked.

"No, it reminds me too much," she said.

"Okay." He waited. "Please?" he begged.

"Fine," she said. She got up and carried the papers over to him. Then she looked around and grabbed a clipboard. "There, you comfortable?"

He nodded and started working. After a moment of watching him anxiously, she went back to the desk and got back to work herself. Periodically, he would rest, leaning his head against the wall behind him, but he really was doing much better with something to concentrate on.

Hours later, Jack came in. He glanced up and gave the man a smile, but kept working on his translation. It didn't occur to him that Jack would find anything wrong with this picture. When the colonel yanked the clipboard out of his hands so suddenly that he nearly pulled him off the bed, though, it was difficult to miss.

"What the hell were you thinking, Carter?" Jack demanded. "The man is sick! He shouldn't be working." He threw the clipboard at her and Daniel stared in shock.

"I'm sorry, sir, he – I –"

Jack was advancing on her menacingly, one arm raising as if he was going to hit her, and Daniel acted without thinking. He got to his feet despite his shaky balance and took two long strides to grab Jack's arm. "NO!" he yelled. Jack turned, his expression incredulous and angry. "No," Daniel repeated a little more weakly. "It's my fault. I insisted. Please, don't hurt her."

Jack stared at him for a long moment, anger boiling in his dark eyes and Daniel waited for the blow to fall. "You should be in bed," Jack said finally. The anger was still there, but it had banked to a simmer, and Daniel knew he was in for it when he was no longer pathetically sick. Jack took him by the arm and walked him back to the bed. "You don't take good enough care of yourself, Daniel."

"I know, Jack. You're . . . you're very good to me." Daniel closed his eyes as Jack lowered him gently to the bed and tucked him in.

"Now, why would you want to work when you're feeling this bad, Daniel?" Jack asked. "Can you make me understand that?"

Daniel opened his eyes and looked at the other man. Having this stress on top of an already upset stomach was making things very hard. He took a deep breath. "It gives me something to think about besides how bad I feel," he said, finally. "I'm not doing too much. When I get tired, I stop. And I really did insist, Jack. I was pretty pushy. You know how I can be."

Jack grinned wryly. "That I do, Daniel." He looked over towards Samantha. "Bring me that clipboard, Carter." She brought it over quickly and wordlessly, then returned just as silently to the desk. "You just have to swear to me that you won't overwork. Hammond's not happy that you've been sick so long."

Daniel blinked, wondering exactly what that meant. "Well, then he should be pleased that I'm working, right?"

"Yeah, maybe, but take care you don't make yourself worse."

"I will, Jack. I don't want to feel any worse than I do now."

The wry grin became a more genuine smile. Jack reached out and cupped the side of Daniel's face in his hand. "You're a good kid, Danny," he said.

Daniel dredged in his memory for how good it had felt when Jack hugged him after leaving him for dead on Klorel's ship and smiled back at him. After a couple of moments, Jack drew back. "Well, I'm going to go fetch you some broth. I'll be back shortly."

As Jack left the room, Daniel let the smile fade off his face and thumped his head back against the wall, eyes closed. Belatedly, he remembered the recording and he looked over at Samantha. Her eyes were wide with alarm. "I think I just aged ten years," he said. She blinked at him. "I don't like it when Jack's mad at me."

"No, I can understand that," she said.

He nodded and returned to work, trying to calm himself enough to focus. He never wanted to see anything like that again. The very idea of Jack actually hitting Sam or Samantha or whatever she wanted to be called was horrifying. He brought his mind back to the work of translation finally a few minutes before Jack came back with his dinner.

Once he'd drunk his broth, he got some more work done and actually finished the translation. Jack hadn't left this time, but had sat reading. When Daniel said he'd finished, Jack stood up. "All right, then, it's time for good little linguists to go to sleep." He took the papers, clipboard and books from Daniel's unresisting hands.

Daniel got up and used the restroom, during which time Jack had evidently evicted Carter, for she was gone when he came out. Jack had a couple of blankets and a pillow and was laying them out on the floor. "You don't have to stay," Daniel said, climbing into the bed. "I'll be fine."

"Good night, Daniel," Jack replied, and he gave up. Pushing this O'Neill too far would not be a good idea. He got into the bed and fell asleep very quickly.

* * *

_**Tuesday, April 13** _

Daniel woke up feeling enormously better. He was still weak and very tired, but he didn't think he'd throw up the next thing he put in his mouth, which was a marked improvement over the day before. He slipped out of the bed and Jack looked up. "Good morning," he said, yawning.

"Good morning," Daniel said, then he went to the bathroom. When he came back, Jack was folding up the extra blankets and putting them on the bed.

"How do you feel, Danny?" he asked.

 _Like I want you to stop calling me that!_ Daniel smiled. "I feel a lot better. I think I could have some toast with the broth this morning."

"Good. I'll let Carter know." Daniel headed over to the desk. Before he got there, Jack caught him around the shoulders, squeezing gently. He breathed in sharply with surprise. Jack relaxed the hold almost instantly, his hand coming to rest on the back of Daniel's neck. Daniel turned to look up at him apprehensively. "I'm glad you're feeling better," Jack said in a soft voice. Then his tone got harder, and his hand began to squeeze almost painfully on Daniel's neck. "But don't _ever_ come between me and someone else again."

Daniel blinked, terror threading through his gut, almost undoing him. "Of course not, Jack," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Good boy," Jack said, shaking him lightly. He let go and turned toward the bed, picking up the blankets and pillow that he'd used the night before. "Now, if you get tired, you go take a nap, you hear me?"

"Sure, Jack," Daniel said, his mouth dry with stress.

"See you later. Carter should be in shortly."

Daniel nodded and sat down quickly for fear that his legs wouldn't hold him any longer. Jack patted him on the shoulder on his way past and left the room. Daniel stared forward, trying to come up with a reaction that wouldn't look odd to the monitors.

* * *

_**Wednesday, April 14** _

On Wednesday, she took Daniel his dinner at around five and fetched the tray out at five thirty. Then she left the base and drove downtown. She'd had to look up the Cuppa Café in the phone directory. It had been a long time since she'd done something as normal as going out for a cup of coffee.

As she drove up, she saw that it had a large outdoor seating area. The parking was down the block, though, so she had to drive past it. Traffic slowed and she looked over at it curiously. It seemed to be a sort of trendy, upscale kind of place, with . . . and then she saw Lt. Colonel Maybourne and nearly rear ended the guy in front of her.

She turned her face front instantly and drove on, right past the parking lot. There was no way she was going to a clandestine meeting with Maybourne anywhere near. The man was NID, and he'd been trying to get dirt on the SGC for months. So far they'd managed to stave him off, but a meeting like this one would be exactly the kind of thing he'd love to overhear.

As she got out of downtown and started heading home, she shook her head. She'd just have to hope that her unknown would-be ally would contact her again.

* * *

_**Thursday, April 15** _

Samantha was glad that Daniel was completely better, finally. Colonel O'Neill seemed to be less tense, which couldn't be anything other than good, and it meant she didn't have to spend entire days in that little room. God, how depressing that space was. They couldn't leave Daniel in there all the time . . . it wouldn't be good for him. Her mind started turning over ways to put that to the colonel. It wasn't as if he could actually go anywhere. He had nowhere to go. He didn't even have any legal recourse. As far as the government was concerned, Dr. Daniel Jackson was dead.

She'd have to mention the benefits of sunlight, fresh air, having the ability to walk more than ten steps in a straight line. Shaking her head, she started working on the improvements to the dialing program that she wanted to implement. Footsteps behind her made her start slightly, and she heard a deep chuckle behind her.

"You shouldn't be so jumpy, lieutenant," General Hammond said. "There's no threat to you here."

She jumped to her feet and saluted. "No sir, sorry sir."

He returned her salute and leaned his hip against the table, smiling slightly. He somehow made her think of a shark – all the danger was below the surface. "I want your honest opinion, lieutenant, how well are Colonel O'Neill and the new Daniel Jackson working together?"

"Well," she said, her eyes wide. "Very well, I think. It may take some time, though, for them to get used to one another. Have you asked Colonel O'Neill?"

Hammond's expression grew confidential and he leaned a little closer. "I very much doubt that Colonel O'Neill is capable of being objective on this subject, lieutenant, but you've been in contact with both of them quite a bit over the last few days."

She moistened her lips uneasily. "Well, Colonel O'Neill hasn't had to resort to any . . . um . . . physical remonstrances yet," she said.

"Why do you think that is? I mean, Dr. Jackson has been ill, but is there another reason?"

She gulped. "I think, sir, that this Dr. Jackson is better at managing the colonel's moods than any of the previous ones have been."

"Including our own . . ." Hammond's eyes grew thoughtful. "Interesting," he said. "Thank you, lieutenant." He turned and left, and she wondered what on earth that had been about.

* * *

**Reality L583**

It had been over a week and a half. Sam had moved the mirror into her lab to help with her work, but nothing was making any difference. The damned thing just sat there, an irregular frame with nothing inside it.

Colonel O'Neill had visited more than once, and he was always quietly encouraging, and Teal'c kept forcing her to go to bed at night. The image of two babies waiting for their father to come back combined with the image of her Daniel getting beaten into a bloody pulp drove her onward relentlessly.

Nothing worked though. Sam was ready to throw her tools across the lab. She glared at the transdimensional mirror in a fury. "Work, damn you!"

Abruptly, a shimmering surface came into existence in the frame. She stared in shock. It looked like mirrored glass, but the image it reflected was not her lab. Daniel had described the phenomenon, but she'd never seen it.

And she was absolutely certain that nothing she had done had activated it, so she grabbed the pistol she had sitting nearby and looked around warily. Her attention was caught by movement within the mirror, though.

A familiar man walked into view on the other side. In this image, he wore lieutenant colonel's stripes, but he was undeniably Harry Maybourne. She blinked in shock. He held up a white sheet of paper with words written on it.

I know where your Daniel is. I need to come through and talk to you, but I'd rather not get shot. Can we come to some kind of arrangement? I have limited time, so I need an answer now.

She fumbled for the phone and picked it up, dialing the general's office. "General Hammond's office," said the cheerful voice of his secretary.

"I need the general _now_ ," she said urgently. "I don't care what he's doing or who he's talking to, I need him now!"

To her credit, Hammond's secretary recognized real urgency when she heard it. There were a couple of clicks and then the general's voice. "Captain Carter?" he said.

"Sir, I am looking through the transdimensional mirror at an alternate universe that I did not call up. On the other side is a Lt. Colonel Harry Maybourne with a note telling me he knows where our Daniel is and asking to come through. He says he has limited time and needs an answer now."

There was barely a pause on the other end of the line. "Tell him yes, captain, but keep your weapon on him till I tell you otherwise."

She nodded into the mirror, and beckoned. Maybourne touched the surface and was suddenly in the room with her, his back to her, still touching the mirror. The surface winked out of existence and Maybourne turned around.

"He's here, sir," she said, holding her pistol on him.

"That's really not necessary, captain," Maybourne said, looking at the handgun.

"Colonel O'Neill and I will be there momentarily, captain." There was a click as Hammond hung up the phone. Without taking her eyes off Maybourne, Sam put her phone down in its cradle.

"It really isn't necessary," Maybourne repeated.

"Maybe not, but I have my orders," she said.

"You're a lot more confident than your counterpart," he observed. He glanced around the room. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Be my guest," she said. "Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond will be here in a few moments."

"Good. That will save time."

"What's going on with our Daniel?" she asked.

"I don't have a lot of details, but what details I do have should probably await the presence of your superiors, don't you think?"

Sam raised her eyebrows at his condescension, but she didn't respond otherwise. For one thing, he was right, for another, it would do no good to get into a fuss about his attitude.

Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond arrived at the same moment, but she didn't relax her stance until General Hammond said, "Stand down, Captain Carter."

"Yes sir," she said, lowering the pistol. She didn't, however, put it back on the table.

"How can I help you, lieutenant colonel?" Hammond asked.

Maybourne shook his head. "The question is how can I help you," he said.

"Very well," Hammond said. "Go ahead. We're listening."

"First, your Daniel Jackson is in good health. He seems to have come down with a case of the stomach flu, but other than that, he has not been harmed in any way."

"I find that hard to believe," Jack said. "The man we have in the infirmary –"

"I don't have tons of time," Maybourne said, his tone almost too polite. "Let me finish, if you would?" The general gave Jack a look and O'Neill pursed his lips. Sam watched, her own reservations kept internal. "Your Dr. Jackson seems to be handling our Colonel O'Neill a little more effectively than the others have. I don't know a lot of details because I haven't actually seen the man, just heard what little we at the NID are getting out of the SGC these days."

"Thank you for the information," Hammond said. "Why are you here, though?"

"I'm disturbed by the complete lack of ethics being shown by the SGC on the whole, and by O'Neill and Hammond in particular in this situation." Jack stared at this Maybourne in astonishment. He was disturbed by a lack of ethics? "From what evidence we have been able to collect, they've stolen at least five Daniel Jacksons from their own realities and deposited them in altogether different ones, all after the death of our Dr. Jackson under very suspicious circumstances."

"What is this, a Mirror Mirror universe?" the colonel demanded.

Sam blinked, recognizing the reference but not immediately placing it. Maybourne raised an eyebrow. "Do I take it from that question that I'm an ass here?"

"That would be putting it mildly," the colonel replied.

"Well, then, I'd say yes, that's about right, though perhaps a bit simplistic."

"I'm a simple man."

"You said it, I didn't," Maybourne said. The colonel glared at him, but before anyone could say anything, Maybourne went on. "Now, I can't at this moment get to your Daniel, but I'm working on it. I'm trying to get a helper on the inside, but if I can't manage that, I may need your help for something a bit more direct."

"Could we just try for direct now?" O'Neill asked.

Maybourne tilted his head. "So, you want to go straight to the scenario that could wind up getting him shot?" he asked.

Sam swallowed, biting her lip and glanced at her commanding officer. "Um . . . no, I guess not."

"Good, then there are a few brains cells firing in there." The colonel opened his mouth to retort angrily, but the general put a hand on his arm and Maybourne looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry, I really don't like your counterpart." He glanced at his watch. "I'm going to give her another week, then I'll come back and –"

"Another week?" Hammond exclaimed. "I'm not at all comfortable waiting a week for the return of our Dr. Jackson."

"You don't have a choice, general," Maybourne replied. "I'm not set up for an extraction yet, and there's no chance I will be for at least another week, probably closer to two. I just wanted to have you folks preparing on this end."

"I see," Hammond said.

Sam cleared her throat and they all looked at her. "Um . . . do you have any way of getting the Daniel that was left here back to his own reality?" she asked.

Maybourne blinked. "I hadn't really considered that aspect. It's just possible, though it would take some work. We have the realities numbered, so I'd just have to figure out which one he came from, and then work out which configuration matches that." He glanced down at the item in his hand, which Sam realized abruptly matched Daniel's description of what the controller looked like. She reached for it involuntarily.

"I don't suppose you could leave that here?" she asked desperately.

"I'm afraid not. It's absence would be noticed." He sighed, looking at her. "I could wish that your counterpart was a little more like you," he said.

"What's she like?" Sam asked.

"She's an overworked, under-appreciated scientific genius in a chauvinistic militaristic organization populated by people with consciences the size of fleas."

"Yikes."

"Just imagine a world where General Hammond pats you on the ass and says 'good girl' when you've achieved something, and you've got an idea."

Sam's eyes widened, but she shook her head. "Look, the next time you come, could you bring one of those that won't be missed?"

He opened his mouth and blinked. "I could try, I suppose."

"Specs even," she exclaimed. "Seriously."

"I'll do what I can." He looked at his watch. "And I'm in my return window. I've got to go. I'll be back in a week to let you know what we have planned."

He activated the mirror, touched it, and vanished. Sam looked through to the other reality. He waved at her, then the mirror winked out again.

"That was surreal," she said, slowly.

"To say the least," Colonel O'Neill said. "Do we believe him?"

"Do we have a choice?" Hammond responded, and O'Neill shrugged. "All right, you get a strike team ready, colonel. Make sure they're all steady, unflappable people. Arm them with zats and warn them that they might meet themselves or anyone else they know here."

"Yes sir," O'Neill said.

"Captain Carter, keep trying to fabricate a controller. I don't want to count on any version of Maybourne if I can help it."

"Yes sir," she said. The two men left and she looked down at her equipment. At least now she had a recording and data regarding what occurred when the mirror activated. It was a little more information than she'd had that morning. She settled down to analyze it, hoping it would grant her helpful insights.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Thursday, April 15_  
Reality A001**

If Daniel counted the day he had been brought here, this was the eleventh day he'd been in this little room. He had translated fourteen texts, spent two days completely wiped out with the flu, and largely avoided the damage he'd been expecting to endure from this Jack O'Neill. He still wasn't altogether sure how he'd managed that.

Since his bout with the flu, his stomach had largely calmed down, though he still had plenty of anxious twists. He almost wished Jack would just hit him and get it over with, but he was in a jolly mood. Daniel wasn't sure why.

He looked down at the project he was working on currently. It was a large monument with Celtic inscriptions on all four sides. At home, he would have gone to the site, made videos and taken photographs. Here, all he had to work from were long shots of the sides and a large quantity of close up photographs that were numbered to show where they belonged in relation to one another. He'd spread them out one side at a time try and get a feel for the whole of the text, but he had to go a line at a time.

It was the second day he'd been working on this project, and he wasn't even halfway through. It wasn't reasonable for anyone to expect him to be done with it quickly, given the size of it, but so far he hadn't noticed much in the way of reason from those who were holding him. He had begun, as the evening progressed, to become quite worried that Jack would be angry about the amount of time it was taking.

Still, he had a powerful suspicion that mistakes would be worse, so he didn't try to rush. He simply immersed himself in the work. When the door opened, he didn't even look up.

He felt Jack put his hand on his back, and he spoke instantly. "I'm trying, Jack, but this one's going to take some time. I'm doing the best I can."

"You haven't eaten your dinner, Daniel," Jack said.

At that, Daniel looked up. There was a bowl of tomato soup that had developed a rubbery skin across the top of it, and a pair of very soggy looking grilled cheese sandwiches sat next to it on a plate. "I didn't even notice when it came in," Daniel said, blinking at it in surprise.

"I guessed." Jack's hand was resting heavily on his shoulder. Daniel looked up at the unpredictable man who had such total control over him right now, wondering what was coming. "What do I have to do to convince you to take better care of yourself, Daniel?" he asked. He both looked and sounded exasperated.

"I was kind of focused on work," Daniel replied. "I know how important it is to you that everything goes smoothly."

Jack stared at him for a moment. "You making yourself sick won't help anything," he said. "I'm going to send for another tray of food." He picked up the tray and took it to the door. Daniel heard him speaking to the people outside, and he took several deep breaths. Jack still hadn't addressed the amount of time this project was taking, and he had started out this conversation on a bad footing by failing to even notice his dinner.

The door closed again and Daniel peered around behind him. "Thanks, Jack. I'm so absent-minded, if I didn't have someone looking out for me . . ."

"Don't you worry, Daniel. You'll always have me." Contriving to smile, Daniel turned back to his work. He'd been afraid that he was spreading it on too thick, but this Jack seemed not to have a very good sense for bullshit. Jack pulled the spare chair over and sat down beside him. "So, what is it we have to do to get you to notice your food when it comes? Smack you upside the head?"

Daniel looked at him sideways. "Literally?" he asked without thinking first.

Jack rolled his eyes and clouted Daniel lightly on the back of the head. The blow, light though it was, startled Daniel into immobility. "Don't be such a wuss, Danny." Daniel forced himself to relax. It hadn't been damaging, it wasn't a big deal. He got his back muscles to untense. "Anyway," Jack continued, "I've looked at the video of when the food came in, and Carter spoke to you and you sort of grunted. What do we have to do to make sure we actually have your attention?"

Daniel shrugged. "When I'm that absorbed, Jack usually just brings me finger food."

"Jack does?" The voice was suddenly distant and slightly hard. Daniel froze. He'd done such a good job of not slipping so far. It seemed he'd relaxed a little too much. "Jack who?"

He cleared his throat. "The other one," he said, his voice cracking.

"Oh," Jack said, his voice now very sharp. "Him." Daniel was very aware of the man sitting so stiffly beside him. "So, do I not bring you the right kind of food?"

"I didn't say that," Daniel said quickly. "I was just telling you what he does."

"Did," Jack said firmly. "What he did."

Nervous tension was threading through Daniel's gut. "Right. What he did." There was silence between them for a long moment, then Daniel's worry got the better of his common sense. "Jack?"

"Yes, Daniel?"

"Am I ever . . . going back?"

"Back?" Jack repeated as if he didn't quite understand the concept.

"Yeah, back where I came from?"

Jack leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and looked at him. "Do you want to?" he asked. His voice was casual, conversational, but the look in his eyes was anything but calm.

Having started this, however, Daniel couldn't just stop. "I just . . . I thought you sort of . . . swapped Daniels. Kept one for awhile and then . . . swapped."

Jack shrugged. "We were, but we were just looking for the right one."

"The right one?" Daniel faltered. "What do you mean? How can you tell the right one from the wrong one?"

"I can just tell," Jack said. "You're the right one." He reached out and tousled Daniel's hair. "We're going to keep you."

"Oh." Daniel blinked, feeling more than a little stunned. "I see." Being the 'right one' could prove difficult to live up to, he had a feeling. And the consequences for not making the grade could be . . . he didn't want to think too closely about it. "So, am I going to stay in here forever? In this room?"

Jack looked around at the four walls as if he hadn't thought about it much. "Well, for now, certainly. Hammond's not sure of you, yet. He doesn't have the same feel for you that I do."

"I see," Daniel said. "It's just . . . I'm used to a lot more exercise than I can reasonably get in here, and the lack of sunlight could have an adverse affect on my health."

Jack nodded. "I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, eat the food we bring you. You could stand a little more meat on your bones." He poked Daniel in the ribs, startling him. "Hey, that got a reaction!" Jack exclaimed and did it again. Quite suddenly, he started tickling him, and Daniel didn't know how to respond. His instincts took over, and he shoved Jack away.

Grinning maniacally, Jack grabbed him again, tickling anywhere he could reach. Daniel tried to struggle free, but Jack seemed to interpret it as playing along with the game. They wound up rolling around on the floor in what Daniel recognized as being meant to be a friendly tickle fight between two men who were close enough to be brothers. It was just the knowledge that this man had killed someone who looked just like him, and possibly maimed several others, that lent it an aspect of the macabre.

Eventually, Jack seemed to tire of the play and stopped with Daniel still pinned to the floor. Jack was grinning and panting slightly. "You need to toughen up, Danny."

Daniel felt so completely befuddled with anxiety and fear and simple irritation that he couldn't speak. He just stared wide-eyed up at Jack. The door clicked, and Jack stood up quickly, reaching down to haul Daniel to his feet. Lt. Carter came in, carrying a fresh tray of tomato soup and grilled cheese.

She took the tray across to the desk and said, "I'm sorry, sir, I thought he realized that the food was there."

"It's not your fault, lieutenant," Jack said, and Daniel saw her relax infinitesimally. "We need to work out some kind of signal to alert Daniel to the fact that his food has arrived and that he is to eat it. For now, though, I think you need to stay to see that he's started the meal."

"Yes sir," she said.

"And Daniel, don't worry so much about this project. It's important, I can already see that by the translations I've seen, but no one expects you to translate every symbol on a monument that size in this short a time." Abruptly he wrapped his arm around Daniel's neck and knuckled his head. "Learn to relax a little, kid."

Having this Jack's arm around his neck nearly made him panic. He kept a lid on it, though, and when Jack let him up, he managed a faint grin. "Now, eat. Carter, stick around and see that he eats it all. And no more work this evening. Play a game, find a book to read, something. Just no more work."

Daniel nodded, and Jack left. With the thunk of the door shutting, a certain amount of tension went out of him. He turned back to the desk and the tray of food. Lt. Carter was still standing. He smiled. "Have a seat, Samantha, you're stuck with me till I finish."

She looked mildly surprised by his use of her given name, but she smiled and sat down. "I think I can stand it," she said.

"Good." He started eating, feeling a little foolish with her watching. She looked away, and he could tell by her expression that she felt equally foolish. "So, tell me . . ." He stalled, not sure what to ask that wouldn't be a minefield. "Do you miss your Daniel?" he asked, finally, giving up on finding a neutral question. "Or did you two even like each other?"

She turned back towards him in surprise. "We . . . we had a lot in common," she said, her eyes misting up. "I miss him every day."

"I'm sorry . . . I shouldn't have asked."

"I don't know why not," she said. "You have to be curious."

Daniel shrugged. "I am. I can't help wondering how this situation came about."

She gave him a pained grin. "Kowalski would say you think too much." She glanced towards the door then pursed her lips. "We probably shouldn't be having this conversation."

Daniel sighed. "No, probably not." He ate in silence for a little while. Finally, he looked up again. "So, he ordered me to play a game. Do you want to join me? Find a chess set or some cards?"

"I could . . ." She looked mildly uneasy. "I could find a chess set," she said. "When you're done eating."

He rolled his eyes and ate the rest of his food, not hurrying because his stomach wouldn't permit it. He wasn't sick anymore, but he was under enough stress that his stomach was still very touchy. When he was done, she took the tray and left. He looked down at the project, but decided against doing any work on it. Jack had been firm, and this wasn't a matter he felt like defying him on.

Daniel wasn't sure how to feel about his easy assumption of this submissive and oppressed role. Part of why it had been so easy was that it felt so incredibly familiar. He knew how this sort of relationship worked, though not with someone who was quite seriously unhinged. Alex had been many things, but he had been completely sane, if one could ever truly call a teenager sane.

He'd have thought it would be more difficult than it seemed to be to fall back into the pattern, though. Of course, he was consciously trying to, so that was probably part of it. After more than twenty years, it was very strange to have come full circle.

He put his head in his hands and tried not to think about it, but that was a surefire guarantee that he wouldn't be able to stop. It had been his fourth foster home in two years, and as a child who had started out painfully shy around other children, two years in foster care had left him wary of his peers. Like pack animals of any kind, they sensed his unease and were drawn to it. When he'd arrived at the Genesee's group home, he had been bombarded by children of varying ages and had withdrawn. Being a scrawny, ten-year-old geek with glasses hadn't helped matters any.

Unlike the other kids, Alex had been kind and welcoming, and Daniel had responded to that very strongly. They shared another bond, both of them were orphans, not kids who'd been taken away from their parents. Years later, Daniel went back to look up the history of that and found out that Alex's mother had killed his father and then herself . . . as a solution to spousal violence.

Alex had been as much of a victim as his mother had been, Daniel surmised, and it showed. It had started out as ordinary pushing and smacking, the things that all boys do to one another, normal stuff. But it had escalated. When things weren't going well for Alex, Daniel found out about it. He became very good at coaxing the older boy out of his violent moods, but sometimes that just wasn't possible.

What had started out as the first close friendship Daniel had ever had with another child turned into a frightening secret that he couldn't share. None of the adults in Daniel's life seemed to give a damn what happened to him, not even the sugary social workers. He snorted. Being that perceptive about people's motivations at age ten wasn't fun.

He'd explained the broken arm as the result of a fall from a high tree branch, and endured the punishment for climbing trees stoically. Finally, one of his teachers had contacted CPS. The Genesees had been indignant at the suggestion that they hit any of the children they looked after, but one of the other children, younger than Daniel, told the truth.

It had taken years for Daniel to wrap his mind around the notion that Alex had genuinely cared about him, but that his wiring had been so screwed up from the start that he didn't know how to express it.

This Jack was acting much like Alex had when things were going well. Daniel wondered suddenly if the Daniel here had never been rescued from Alex, and had grown up thinking that violence was the way two men showed caring for one another. If that was the case, and he and Jack had developed some kind of a co-dependent relationship, that would rather explain the behavior Jack was showing now. And it might go a long way towards explaining the other Daniel's death.

When Daniel had performed so well during the crisis that came on his first night here, Jack had responded with praise, and Daniel had fallen into the right pattern almost immediately, giving Jack the correct feedback to start the loop again.

Now he was stuck in the old pattern, but he was grown now and it didn't fit. So far he had managed to keep himself together, but his temper was growing chancy. Being stuck in this room, being forced to work fifteen or sixteen hours a day without let up, being given no choices at all, not even in food, all of it was wearing on him.

This insistence that he play a game was the first break in the iron determination that he work during all his waking hours, but it still wasn't a choice.

As if the thought had called her, Samantha came back in with a box under her arm. She opened it and lay the board out on the desk. It was clearly a cheap but much used set from some recreation room somewhere on the base. He picked up one black pawn and one white, then put his hands behind his back, mixing them up. Bringing his hands out in front, he said, "Choose one."

Her eyes were amused with just a hint of sadness, and he wondered how much he was echoing her Daniel. It was difficult. Being himself quite likely meant calling up distressing memories for her, but he couldn't be anyone else. She reached out and tapped his left hand. He flipped it over and opened it to reveal the black pawn.

She smiled and took the piece and they both set up their sides of the board in companionable silence. "I haven't played chess in a long while," she said. "Not since –" She broke off and looked down at her hands.

Daniel grimaced. "I'm not a replacement," he said. "I'm –"

"I know," she replied, looking up quickly. "It's hard, though, you're so like him. Much more so than any of the others."

He didn't quite know what to say to that. Instead of speaking, he reached out and moved his first piece. The game was a little startling and very enlightening. Samantha was a far better chess player than Sam was. He won the game, but it wasn't easy. He grinned at her when they were done. "Very good game. I don't often play people who can challenge me like that."

She smiled. "Daniel and I used to play a lot."

"Really?" Daniel shook his head. "Sam doesn't like chess much. She says it bores her."

Samantha looked at him for a long time, then started resetting the board. "I don't know what matters more, the differences or the similarities."

"A very philosophical question, that is," he said. They played again, and this time she won. He gazed at the board for a moment. "See, now Sam would never have thought of using that desperation measure. It would never have occurred to her."

Samantha pursed her lips. "Maybe I'm more familiar with desperation." Her tone spoke eloquently of a resignation that bordered on despair, but she didn't seem to realize it.

Daniel didn't know what to say. He cleared his throat and reset the board, giving her white this time. They played twice more and he beat her both times, but, again, he had to work for it.

She glanced at the clock and said, "I've got to be going. It's almost time for your lights to dim."

He'd been enjoying himself, but this reminder of how few choices he really had threw cold water on his mood. He gave her a weak smile. Her eyes reflected confusion for a moment, then gradual comprehension. She'd lived with this reality for so long that she hadn't registered how odd and unpleasant it was for him. How oppressive.

A multitude of emotions cascaded through her eyes, but she presented him with a bland smile and left gracefully.

* * *

Samantha was swamped with guilt and shame that she hadn't even considered how constricting it must feel to Daniel to have his entire life regimented in ways that were beyond his control. She'd grown so used to the rules for Daniels, grown so used to not thinking about the way they'd been ripped from their own lives . . .

She could trace it, looking back over her thinking over the last seven or eight months, and see how she'd carefully insulated herself from feeling anything for the abducted Daniels, especially after the first one. This one, being so close to her own Daniel, was getting under her skin. Her defenses were dropping, particularly because he wasn't getting beaten on a regular basis. She wasn't having to protect herself from seeing that familiar face green and blue and yellow with bruises and wanting to do something to stop it. The frustration was too overwhelming when she saw them in agony and knew she was powerless to help them. Shutting down was the only option left, but it left her feeling something less than human.

She went to the locker room to change into civvies for her trip home. It was late, and no one was in there at the moment. The few women that were on base had probably been and gone. She popped her locker open and saw the little folded scrap of white atop her clothes. Made a little nervous lest it be discovered, she tucked it into the pocket of the jeans then stripped down to change. Putting her hand in her pocket to make sure the note hadn't fallen out while she got dressed, she picked up her purse and her keys and headed out to her car.

The night was cool, the air just a bit crisp. The drive wasn't too hectic this late in the evening, but that note was burning a hole in her pocket. She didn't dare look at it until she got home, but she wondered what this unknown person had to say to her now that she'd missed two appointments. Did he know why? Or did he think she wasn't interested in helping Daniel? Or was it a she?

Finally, she pulled up to her house and went inside. She'd already eaten dinner, so there wasn't much to do beyond checking the mail. Dropping the pile of bills and advertisements on the coffee table, she pulled the note out of her pocket and sat down.

Like the other one, this was printed on a laser printer of some sort on very ordinary copy paper. She read it through twice then sighed thoughtfully.

> _Lt. Carter,_
> 
> _I believe we still have matters to discuss. By sheer good fortune, those resources I mentioned are safe at the present time, but the situation could change at any moment._
> 
> _And we both know that if the situation does change, it will most assuredly not be for the better. Those in power guarantee that._
> 
> _I have placed a bumper sticker in an envelope in your box. If you find that you can meet with me some evening at the place we've already established, please place it on your rear bumper. I will see it and know._
> 
> _An Interested Observer_

She blinked. A bumper sticker? She hoped it would be something that no one would think twice about seeing on her car. Sighing, she refolded the note and slid it back into the pocket of her jeans. What was she going to do?

Colonel O'Neill wasn't a bad man at heart, even if he'd gotten his wires badly crossed of late. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the back of the couch and tried to think. If only General Hammond hadn't pushed so damned hard. He'd just kept asking unanswerable questions like, "Who's going to translate Goa'uld for us? Who's going to tell us what this means?" It wasn't even as if the general had ever liked Daniel. He'd put up with him because they needed someone who could understand all the languages they ran into.

She knew that the colonel had been hard pressed to justify Daniel's actions on occasion. Hammond wanted results and he wanted them yesterday. And he wanted them to bring back every bit of alien technology they found no matter what the cost was. Daniel's tendency towards negotiation rather than outright theft or extortion hadn't sat well with the general.

The logic of Daniel's position was often irrefutable, but that made little difference to Hammond. She wondered what it would be like to have the Tollans as their allies rather than as implacable enemies. The Tok'ra were only guardedly friendly, and the hell she'd gone through to persuade Hammond that he shouldn't dismiss them out of hand had made her understand Daniel's situation a lot more clearly. Abruptly she wondered how much of the colonel's bursts of temper had been related to pressure Hammond had always put on him.

She let out a huffing sigh of frustration. What did it matter now? Colonel O'Neill was the next best thing to completely cuckoo, and Hammond seemed to like it that way. And they now had a Daniel that the colonel wanted to keep, will he, nil he.

Not knowing who the note writer was, not knowing what his or her plans might be concerning anyone made it difficult to make reasoned decisions about what to do. She didn't want anything terrible to happen to the colonel, despite his misdeeds. Something in him had snapped the day he realized that their Daniel had died by his hand, and instead of getting him help, Hammond had egged him on.

Hammond's little visit made her very nervous, though, and the questions he'd asked . . . she didn't know what he was up to. Frankly, she wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw him. The trouble with this meeting was that she didn't know how she'd ever be able to get to the Cuppa Café at the time specified. She had things she had to do, feeding Daniel for one, that made a six o'clock meeting very difficult to get to. The colonel hadn't been thrilled that Wednesday when she'd cut out early to try to make the appointment.

But the more she came to like this Daniel, the less she thought it was right to keep him here. He had a life and friends . . . a Samantha Carter and a Jack O'Neill who were probably over there trying to figure out what had happened to their Daniel, and what to do with the one that had been dumped on them. She hoped he'd survived. After all, he was Daniel.

Thinking about the multiple Daniels was enough to give her a headache and make her heartsore. What those kind and gentle men had gone through, simply so that General Hammond could get his translations and Colonel O'Neill could feel, however briefly, that he hadn't killed his best friend. His break from sanity was only a very limited excuse.

The acid in her stomach was churning, and she had to work tomorrow with those men so she forced herself to stop thinking about it for now and went to bed, where her mind wouldn't stop turning things over. Finally, she decided that she would work out a way to get to the café in time. Something had to give, and she wasn't willing to be party to this anymore.

With a decision made, her mind stopped fussing over the issues and let her get to sleep.

* * *

_**Friday, April 16** _

Daniel woke earlier than his lights did, but since the bathroom lights always worked, he decided to take advantage of the non-work time to take a long, hot shower. Letting the steamy water wash over him felt great. It was a choice he'd made, and he doubted very much that anyone could object to it, so he wasn't going to pay for it later.

Eventually, though, he knew he had to get out of the shower and face the morning and that enormous mountain of work. He didn't mind the work so much, he just wished he had gate addresses for some of those places because then he could suggest them as destinations when he got home.

He got out of the shower and dried off, then got dressed. He had pajamas and fatigues, and that was it. For a moment he considered putting on a pajama top with the fatigues, but decided against it. Jack might just consider it disrespectful, and he wasn't quite to the point of doing things just to piss the man off. He had a little self-preservation left.

The lights were on when he went back into the main room. He looked around. It might seem like a large enough room to someone who wasn't on their twelfth day confined there. He knew it could be worse, but telling himself that only helped so much.

Shaking off the melancholy, he settled down at the desk and got back to work on the text of the monument. He'd finished one side and part of another, by simple virtue of working on it for the better part of two days. It described a battle between two Goa'ulds, and though it was, as always, couched in terms of deities and godly might, there was a fair amount of real information regarding tactics used by both parties. A person with knowledge of Goa'uld technology could also make educated guesses regarding what equipment was used and so forth. In terms of immediate benefit, it told them nothing about either Goa'uld's current strength, but knowledge of tactics was never wasted.

Samantha came in about an hour after he got up with a large carafe of coffee and a mug. She set them down on the desk then stood waiting for him to acknowledge her. He was in the middle of a fiddly bit of translation, so he finished what he was focused on, then sat back. "Good morning," he said, his voice neutral. "I hope you slept well."

She flinched at the question, which hadn't been his intention, but he didn't respond outwardly to the movement. "Okay," she said. "Um . . . you should know, we've been ordered offworld for the next thirty-six hours or so, I mean, SG-1 has."

He blinked up at her, not sure what this meant precisely. "And that means?"

"Colonel O'Neill, Major Kowalski and I will be gone for about a day and a half." He nodded, his stomach feeling suddenly like a bottomless pit of anxiety. "General Hammond will assign a couple of airmen to bring your meals, but you aren't supposed to engage them in conversation."

"I see." His mouth was dry. "And when will you be leaving?" he asked.

"Around thirteen hundred hours," she said, the twisting of her hands betraying her agitation. That this made her uncomfortable didn't reassure him any. "I've got to go do some prep work, so one of the airmen will be bringing your breakfast in shortly, but Colonel O'Neill wanted me to tell you so you'd be prepared."

He nodded. "Tell him I appreciate the consideration," he said. Her eyes widened, and he gave her a very tight smile. "Truly. It would not have . . . I wouldn't have liked hearing it from one of the airmen."

Her smile mirrored his, he had a feeling. She put a hand on his shoulder and left the room. He reached out with careful hands and poured himself a cup of coffee. The thought of Jack and Samantha leaving the base was not a good one . . . how dangerous was this mission? What would happen to him if they were killed or captured? Was this Jack really sane enough to go on offworld missions?

He looked up at the clock on the wall. Thirteen hundred hours, one p.m. in laymen's terms. That was six hours away. If she needed to do prep work now, maybe that was an indication that it was a scientific mission. Something relatively harmless . . . he shook his head. He really didn't need to think about this now. There was nothing he could do, so there was no point in worrying about it. He would deal with what came when it came, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it before he knew what it was.

The door opened behind him, and though he knew it was just the airman with his food, he stiffened. Militarily correct, the man paced in, put the tray on the desk, did an about face and left again. Daniel looked at the food and swallowed. It didn't look any less appealing than any other food he'd received lately, but his stomach was not feeling receptive at the moment. Still, the last thing he needed was Jack getting on his case for not eating.

He pulled the tray towards him and managed to force down the sausage and eggs. Then he got back to work, eating the toast in bits and bites.

His eyes kept being drawn to the clock, and he wished he could stop being so aware of time's passage. It wasn't helping his nausea any. It wasn't actually interfering with either his eating or working, which was fortunate, but it made him feel wretched.

No one came to fetch the breakfast tray, and he wondered if it was just going to stay there till lunch. Noon rolled around, and still no one came. He got up to go to the bathroom and heard the door open. When he came out, there was a tray with hot ham sandwiches and greasy french fries sitting on his desk, and the breakfast tray was gone. His coffee, too, had been refreshed. He sat down and ate, then put the tray aside.

With no interruptions, the work went smoothly, though he was still pulled up short occasionally by the differences in the books. He'd go to look up a reference he knew of in a book he remembered, but it wouldn't be there, or it wouldn't be quite as he remembered it, so he'd have to search. Thirteen hundred hours came and went without so much as announcement. Daniel realized abruptly that he hadn't heard any announcements of any kind the whole time he'd been here. This room must be soundproofed and not on the PA system.

He kept working, focusing on the translation to keep himself from worrying too much about Samantha. The afternoon dragged on, and despite there being nothing to anticipate but dinner, he kept looking at the clock which just made him aware of the slowness of the day.

Eventually, the work grabbed him sufficiently that he became less conscious of how the day was passing. He glanced up after a long while and noticed that it was eight. Dinner was very late. Samantha came with it always around six to six thirty.

Shrugging, he returned to work. He wasn't overly hungry in any case. Late wouldn't be a problem. When the lights dimmed, he looked up in astonishment. It was already ten? And no dinner had come at all. He stood up slowly. They had forgotten him, that's all. His stomach made a tentative gurgle and he told it sternly to be quiet. He made a last trip to the bathroom and changed into nightclothes and went to bed. It wasn't part of their usual routine. Surely they wouldn't forget him in the morning.

* * *

_**Saturday, April 17** _

Sure enough, at half past seven an airman came in with a fresh carafe of coffee. Daniel was already hard at work, so he just ignored the young man and kept on with what he was doing. He was still slogging through the second side of the monument, though he was almost done now. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he stood up and stretched. Going to the bookcase as he sipped at the bitter drink, he started scanning for a couple of Latin and Norse reference books he hoped would be there . . . and not too terribly different from their counterparts in his own world. He took down the Norse one, but he didn't see the Latin. Maybe it had never been written. Samantha had told him that all of their Daniel's books had been moved into this room, and he had difficulty imagining a Daniel who didn't have that particular book if it was available.

He put the Norse book down and poured himself some more coffee, then went back across to the shelves. Even if that one wasn't here, there had to be something he could use. He started pulling books off and flipping through them, drinking the coffee to stifle the awakening hunger in his stomach.

Finally, he had what looked like the right reference, but he felt as if his eyes were having trouble staying focused. He took the book back to the desk and put it down, then sat in his chair, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He blinked a couple of times, and the world started spinning. If he hadn't been sitting already, he would have fallen down.

_Am I getting sick again?_ he wondered. _Jack won't like that._

He put his head down on his arms on the desk to rest his eyes, sure that it was just some passing feeling of dizziness. It would go away in a moment. Then darkness came up and took him whole into itself and he knew no more.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Saturday, April 17_  
Reality L583**

Jack looked around Daniel's apartment, seeing the life left in abeyance all around him. There was a pile of mail on the dining table that was growing as the days went by. One of Daniel's neighbors collected it for him when he was away. She was a nice old broad, not too nosy, but kept her eye out on Daniel's box to see that it didn't get too full.

He wandered into the kitchen to peer at the things on the fridge door. Daniel had stuck a calendar page up with magnets, and there were little notations in his precise handwriting about his plans. In the square for April 8th, it said, "Lecture, North Hall, 232." The 11th through the 14th were blocked together and just said, "Away." Jack smiled, the mission to PR8-339. Daniel had been really looking forward to that. They'd heard that there was a peaceful culture there that had much to offer in terms of science and culture. Both Daniel and Carter had been excited.

He thumped his head against the door. Of course, that hadn't happened. It was now the 17th and Daniel was in another reality going through God only knew what hell. Opening the fridge he pulled out the expired milk and some leftovers and threw them out. He rapidly gathered up all the dirty dishes and stuck them in the dishwasher and set it going. Then he went to Daniel's room and stripped the bed, tossing the sheets and pillowcases in the washer and starting that as well. He remade the bed with clean sheets.

He knew how much Daniel hated to come home to a messy house, and he also knew that his friend would quite likely not be up to much cleaning of his own for awhile after he came back. Daniel would do the same for him, he reflected as he neatened things up, not moving anything but dirty dishes, clothes or linens. Woe betide anyone who moved an archeologist's papers or books. They'd all learned that lesson early. He gave the bathroom a quick once over, putting out new towels.

When the bedding was done in the washer, he put it in the dryer and started washing the clothes in the hamper. The dishwasher finished and he put the dishes away. Gradually, he got everything done, just making it so that when Daniel did come home, he wouldn't have to deal with too much. A service came in and did things like dusting, but not laundry or dishes much.

He then went and sorted out the bills from the rest of the mail and tucked them into an envelope to take to the accounting office at the mountain. They would take care of making sure that Daniel's power and phone and other things didn't get shut off due to lack of payment.

Finally, with everything clean and put away, he went to the living room and attended to his stated purpose for being here, which was to fetch a book for the Dr. Jackson they had at the mountain. There was a reference, something about Sumerian grammar and syntax, that he wanted to look into for a translation he was working on. This Daniel had proven just as determined to work on weekends as theirs was.

He pulled the book off the shelf, picked up the envelope of bills, and took another look around the apartment. Then he went out quickly, locking the door behind him.

Damn those bastards to hell.

* * *

**Reality A001**

Daniel felt very muzzy, and his mouth tasted vile, like stale cotton. He blinked his eyes open, trying to get them to focus. Above him he saw the ceiling of his prison, and he swallowed with difficulty. He must be sick, or he wouldn't feel so odd.

He didn't remember going to bed, but he was tucked in neatly. He lay there, trying to remember what had happened. There was an odd sound in the room with him and he turned his head to see an array of monitors by the bed. He had an IV tube running into his arm, something clipped to the end of his finger to monitor his oxygen, he felt the itch of electrodes on his chest, no doubt monitoring his heart rate . . . what the hell was wrong with him?

Footsteps sounded in the room with him, and a nurse came over. She bent to check the monitors, then pulled out a thermometer and stuck it in his ear.

"What's going on?" he asked. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," she said shortly. "You're going to be fine." Then she pulled open the gown he was wearing at the neck and looked down at something on the left side of his chest. He craned his neck to see what it was, but it was too hard to see. He gave up and flopped his head back.

"If I'm fine, why am I hooked up to all this stuff?" he asked after a moment.

She didn't answer, just took up a clipboard, made some notations, then checked other monitors, made a few more notations, and walked to the door. She knocked, then conferred with someone outside. Daniel sat up, and there was a slight pain in the left side of his chest that he couldn't identify. What had they done to him? He didn't recall anything happening that would have necessitated surgery or stitches, so . . .

He looked at the nurse who still stood facing the door though it was closed now. He wasn't waiting for an explanation that was all too likely to be false anyway. He pulled the oxygen monitor off his finger and gently removed the IV from his arm before she turned back to face him.

"Dr. Jackson, what are you doing?" she asked, sounding alarmed.

"Since you won't answer my questions, I'm going to have a look."

"You need to stay in bed until the doctor gets here." Her voice was authoritative, but Daniel ignored her.

He peeled off the electrodes, wincing when they pulled at the fine hairs on his chest. He pulled the blood pressure cuff off his arm and tossed it aside. Then, shoving the monitors aside, he stood up.

"Dr. Jackson!" she exclaimed, moving towards him as he rose. He turned towards her and something in his expression must have alarmed her because she faltered to a stop. Nevertheless, she started forward again a second later. "Dr. Jackson," she said in a firm, no nonsense voice that no doubt got results more often than not, "you really must lie down."

"I will hit you if you try to lay a hand on me."

Her eyes widened, and his tone must persuaded her he was serious, because she stopped altogether. He opened the bathroom door and went in, noticing for the first time that there was no lock. It didn't seem to matter much. He pulled open the hospital gown he was wearing and looked at his chest. There was the expected goopy stuff left by the electrodes, but when he lifted his arm and turned, he could see a small, stitched incision about five inches down from his armpit. It was very small indeed, but he didn't know what it was for, and that alarmed him greatly.

He heard the outer door open and reached into the cupboard, pulling on boxers and a pair of fatigue pants, ignoring the slight pain he was causing himself. He had pulled the gown off and was cleaning the goop off his chest with a washcloth when the door behind him opened.

"Dr. Jackson," said a very familiar voice, and in the mirror Daniel saw Dr. Warner behind him, very concerned. "You really must allow my nurse to tend to you properly."

"What have you done to me?" he demanded, turning around to glare at the man. "Why did you cut into me?"

Warner took a step back from the look Daniel's face, but he didn't back down from his stance. "We'll explain everything to you if you'll just lie back down and let us put the monitors back on you."

Daniel turned back to the sink and started scrubbing at his chest again. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm not interested in being a guinea pig, and if I'm fine, there's no need for monitors."

Dr. Warner put his hands on Daniel's shoulders as if to guide Daniel back towards the bed, and Daniel turned again, giving the man a shove that sent him reeling backwards. He caught himself on the door frame and stared at Daniel in utter shock.

"Please don't touch me," Daniel said. He dropped the washcloth in the sink and pulled out a hand towel to dry his chest off with. Then he picked up the black t-shirt he'd pulled out of the cupboard and pulled it on, ignoring the way it pulled on the stitches as he slid it down his body.

Dr. Warner backed out of the bathroom and he heard him talking to the nurse in agitated tones. Then the door opened again, and Daniel wondered who it was now. The voice he heard shocked him into immobility for a moment.

"I think Dr. Jackson can do without the medical equipment and monitors now, Dr. Warner," said General Hammond, sounding genial. "After all, you said it was a very minor procedure, and he hasn't had any reactions thus far. You can have your nurse watch him from the surveillance room."

"That's hardly enough, sir, I –"

"Dr. Warner, are you questioning my instructions?" The hint of warning in the tone was very subtle, and Daniel could imagine his own General Hammond saying those words in just that way. However, Dr. Warner's reaction was all out of proportion to it.

"Of course not, sir," he exclaimed. "Thompson, get the equipment out of here."

"The airmen outside will help you get it out of the room, doctor," Hammond said. Daniel bit his lip, trying to decide what he was going to do. He turned and looked into the mirror again. The bruises on his face were gone now, and he looked pretty normal, as far as he could tell without his glasses on. They were sitting on the sink, and Daniel put them on. He didn't know what to expect from this General Hammond and that had him badly spooked. This Jack certainly seemed intimidated by him.

After several minutes, he heard the outer door open and close a final time. Then there was silence in the outer room for a long moment. He turned and walked to the door to see General Hammond sitting calmly at the desk in Daniel's chair. A very large man stood behind him at parade rest. "Please, Dr. Jackson, come sit down. We have a few things to discuss."

There was a flutter of unease in his stomach, but he walked across to sit in the chair Jack had brought in while he was sick. He cleared his throat, but could find nothing to say.

"Very good," Hammond said. "I'd like to compliment you on your excellent productivity. Even our original didn't turn out this much work in this short a time."

Daniel blinked at him, uncertain how to react, especially since the thought running through his mind was, _You probably didn't lock him in a room twenty-four/seven and give him nothing else to do._ After a moment, when it became clear that Hammond expected an answer, he said, "Thank you, sir."

"Now, I don't know how much you've been told about what has happened to your predecessors but you are rather unique." Daniel listened in silence. "By this time, any one of them would have been sporting several relatively serious injuries and multiple contusions. You have been remarkably successful at handling Colonel O'Neill's fits of temper, and as such, we have decided that you will remain."

This, too, seemed to call for an answer, so Daniel said, "I see."

"Good," Hammond said. "Now, you are very productive as a translator, but one of Dr. Jackson's chief strong points was making contact with new cultures. I wish you to carry on in his stead, going on offworld missions. It will take some time for Colonel O'Neill to adjust his notions to fit that plan, but the time will come. In anticipation of that day, we have taken steps to guarantee your cooperation."

Daniel felt his eyebrows raise and he could feel the little incision in his side suddenly very acutely. What the hell had they done to him? "You have?" he said after another pause. He felt like he was dragging a tale he didn't want to hear out of the man.

Hammond smiled, and Daniel really didn't like that expression. If he ever saw it on his Hammond's face, he'd probably run and hide. Here there was nowhere to do that, so he stayed where he was and waited to find out what it was that gave the man such poisonous pleasure. "We have," he said. "It occurred to me that you might find it appealing to simply run away from your team on an offworld mission. It wouldn't get you home, but it would get you away from here." Daniel blinked, hardly daring to move. "To avoid that possibility, and any escape attempts you might be considering, we have implanted a tiny explosive device inside your body, very close to your heart."

It felt as if his heart had actually stopped for a moment as he stared in horror at the man. He forced himself to breathe again and wet his lips. "Are you saying that you put a bomb inside me?" he asked, his voice all too calm.

"Yes, Dr. Jackson, that's exactly what I'm saying," Hammond said. His smile had not abated. "It's radio-controlled and will go off at a signal from a device very much like the GDOs. That device resides in my possession." Hammond leaned back in the chair. "It has a very long range, so when you go offworld, all we'll have to do is open the gate and send the signal. Wherever you are on the planet, you will fall down dead. The explosion, however, will be sufficient only to destroy your heart, not damage anyone around you."

Daniel gulped. "Well, that's considerate," he said. He crossed his arms tightly in front of him, staring fixedly at nothing. They had cut into him to provide themselves with an easy way to kill him and a convenient threat to hold over him.

Hammond nodded, and Daniel had to resist the urge to throttle him. The ape behind him was undoubtedly there to prevent just that. "Now that you understand your situation a bit more clearly, I'll leave you to ponder things for awhile. I'll be back in to talk to you a few times in the next several weeks, and we'll go over my expectations of you in more detail." He rose and looked down at Daniel. "I will, of course, understand if you have difficulty working for the rest of today. Please, take the time off if you feel the need."

If Hammond hadn't suggested it, Daniel probably would have done just that, but with that patronizing tone still ringing in his ears after the general had left, Daniel wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of behaving as if this upset him. He sat down at the desk and focused on the work he had to do. At least he tried to. He didn't get anything done, he couldn't even really see what was in front of him.

Finally, he put his head down on the desk and tried to figure out what the hell he could do. Nothing came to mind. He had a bomb next to his heart, so unless he wanted to die, he had to do whatever Hammond told him to. And Hammond had a ready solution to the lack of a Daniel. He could just send Jack out for a new one.

About a half hour after Hammond left, the nurse came in with food. She seemed very nervous, but he didn't even acknowledge her presence.

When she was gone, he ate the food she had left and put the tray down beside the door, resisting the urge to throw the dishes into the walls. It would be unproductive, and it would give Hammond insight into his reaction to this violation.

He stared at the door for a long moment, his hand clenching and unclenching, then he went to the bed and lay down, glaring at the ceiling. He couldn't stay still for long though. He wound up pacing back and forth fretting and fuming till the lights dimmed. Then he went to the bathroom, changed his clothes and went to bed where he lay awake for hours. His body and mind wouldn't relax for sleep because the last time he'd lost consciousness in this room someone had come in, cut him open and placed a weapon inside him.

Eventually he rolled over on his back and closed his eyes, preparing himself for meditation. He didn't manage to meditate, but the relaxation exercises finally put him to sleep.

* * *

_**Sunday, April 18** _

Daniel woke up feeling almost panicked. He sat up sharply, staring around, half expecting to find that something else had been done to him. He went to the bathroom and got cleaned up, carefully avoiding soaking the stitches. He'd had enough of those that he knew the rules.

Two weeks. Just shy of two weeks he'd been here, and everything had been turned upside down. He was falling back into a pattern that he'd broken at the age of ten, he'd accepted imprisonment and slave labor without fighting back in any way, and now he had a foreign object inside his body that was designed to kill him.

He climbed out of the shower, got dried off and dressed and walked back out into the room he'd occupied for these past two weeks. He wanted to do something violent, throw something, break something, but it wouldn't make a difference. It would only feel good for a moment, and then he'd be back to misery – and it could get him into trouble.

There were times when thinking was more of a pain in the ass than anything else.

He had just turned towards the bookcase when the door opened. He turned and it was Jack, smiling, a tray of food in his hand. "Good morning, Daniel," the colonel said, walking forward and putting the tray down. "Did you have a nice –"

The rage he felt upon seeing Jack and the cheerful smile that he wore burned away all Daniel's good intentions. "You foul, unmitigated, contemptible bastard!" Daniel growled. Jack stared at him in apparent astonishment. "How . . . why . . . wasn't taking my life, my home, my freedom away enough? You had to go and . . . and . . ."

Jack shook his head and came towards him, eyes wide with seeming concern. "Daniel, what in the hell is –"

Daniel backed off, raising his hands in front of him. "Don't you even claim you didn't know. You didn't even come by day before yesterday, didn't want to face me, no doubt, knowing what was going to happen, knowing what they were going to do to me!"

Jack stopped as Daniel spoke and stared. "What they were going to do to you? What are you talking about, Daniel? What did they do? Who did what?"

He sounded completely sincere, and Daniel found himself believing him. He fought against it, turning his back on the man who had turned his life upside down, and who, at the moment, looked so incredibly like his own Jack that it made his stomach twist.

"Daniel, seriously," Jack said, coming closer, putting his hands on Daniel's shoulders.

Daniel turned sharply and pushed him away. "Why should I believe that you don't know, Jack? It's more of the same damned thing, another control put on me, another choice taken away!" Jack was beginning to look upset and angry now, but Daniel didn't care.

"Daniel, quit the babbling," Jack ordered, taking a step closer. "I don't know why you're so angry but you're beginning to piss me off here. Either tell me what you're going on about or . . . or . . ."

"Or what, you'll hit me?"

"God damn it, Daniel, who did what to you?"

"Hammond put a bomb in me!" Daniel yelled.

Jack stared at him again, seeming frozen, his jaw dropped slightly open. After a moment, he closed his mouth then relaxed. "Did you just say that Hammond put a bomb in you?"

"Yes, Jack, I did. Do you see where I might be a little pissed off?"

"Why would he do that?" Jack asked. "It doesn't make sense."

"Because he doesn't want me running off when I go on offworld missions," Daniel said. "It's right next to my heart and he can set it off by remote control."

Jack shook his head, and Daniel began to really, truly believe that he had no idea whatsoever about the bomb. "How . . . what . . . ?"

Daniel lifted his t-shirt and showed him the stitches beneath his left arm. "They drugged me yesterday morning and . . ." He stopped, thinking. "That must be why they didn't give me dinner on Friday night. You're not supposed to eat for twenty-four hours before surgery."

"They drugged you?"

"Yeah, it must have been that. I woke up, I started working, the airman brought in my coffee. I drank a cup and a half and passed out. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in here attached to five or six monitors, and I think I've had some kind of health collapse."

"Are you sure that isn't what it was?" Jack asked.

"Hammond came in here and told me himself, Jack," Daniel said. "I'm not making this up. Besides, what health problem could I possibly have that would lead them to make a tiny incision under my left arm and yet leave me perfectly normal and functioning later in the same day?"

"Does it hurt?"

"The incision? Yes. The bomb? I don't even feel that it's there. I just know . . ." Daniel closed his eyes and turned away again.

Jack was silent for a moment and then Daniel felt his hands at the hem of his t-shirt. "Strip!" he said.

"What?" Daniel exclaimed turning and pushing Jack's hands away. "What are you doing?"

"If they had you unconscious, I want to see what else they might have done to you. Strip and let me take a look."

Stunned by that thought and even more stunned that it hadn't even occurred to him, Daniel started taking off his clothes numbly. Jack gave him a cursory once over, then said, "I don't see any other cuts or injection points."

Without speaking, Daniel pulled his clothes back on and sat down on his bed, pushing himself back into the corner and bringing his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and sat staring at nothing. These people could do anything they wanted to him, and he couldn't stop them. They had not only taken control of his time and his environment away from him, but control of his body as well. They could drug his food or drink, and the only recourse he had was to refuse to eat or drink which wasn't much of an option. And once he was unconscious . . .

He buried his face in his knees before his tears betrayed him.

"God damned mother fucking son of a bitch!" The words started on a low growl but became a furious shout by the end. Daniel flinched from the sound, tucking in tighter than before. He heard a meaty thunk and guessed that Jack had punched something. He was just glad it wasn't him. He could feel his shoulders shaking and tried to minimize the movement, not wanting to seem weak in front of the other man.

There was silence for a time, then Jack spoke very quietly and very close by. "Daniel?"

"Leave me alone," Daniel growled into his knees.

"No," Jack said, and Daniel felt the bed shift. He bit his lip and tried to hold back the sobs that were shuddering his frame. "Daniel, I didn't know." Jack pulled him into his arms against Daniel's best efforts. "I'm sorry. Hammond didn't tell me."

"I don't care!" Daniel groaned. Jack was rocking him, trying to get him to relax against him. "Let me go, damn you!"

"Daniel, we'll get this sorted out. I'll talk to Hammond."

"I want to go home!" Daniel snarled, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. "Let go of me!"

"Hush," Jack murmured. "Your apartment's been closed down. I stored all your stuff, but there isn't anywhere else for you to go right now."

Daniel stiffened. _My apartment?_ He felt himself start to shudder again as he realized just how truly insane this Jack had become. He didn't have an apartment in this reality. His apartment was . . . he gulped. That wasn't what he needed to be thinking about right now. He needed to be figuring out how to react to this Jack, because his madness didn't allow for mistakes.

It was easier to just say nothing. Jack kept murmuring reassurances as he continued to sob and shake. Gradually, much against his expectation, Daniel began to relax. This _felt_ like his Jack. This felt like a man who genuinely cared for him, and who was sincerely outraged by what had been done to him. He didn't want to feel that way, he didn't want to believe that this man was any of those things, but on a very visceral level he felt comforted.

Eventually he stopped crying and Jack pulled away. "You okay, Danny?" he asked.

"No," Daniel replied. "I still have a bomb in my chest, and that's not going to be okay."

Jack grinned sympathetically. "Yeah, I can see that. I'll go see what I can do about it." Daniel gave him a weak smile as he walked towards the door. "I'll get someone to bring you a fresh breakfast, okay?"

"Sure, Jack, that would be great," Daniel said. Jack opened the door and closed it behind him as he left. Daniel heard the click of the lock. He grabbed the pillow and hugged it tightly, feeling like an idiot, but this was really getting to him.

* * *

Between the post-mission debriefing and getting some projects based on data learned on the mission going, Samantha was busy all day. A note assured her that Dr. Jackson was being seen to, and she had to content herself with that because Hammond had been most insistent about wanting these projects started immediately.

She headed to Daniel's room after she finished her work for the day, around eight, but when she got there, the airman stood his ground and didn't let her in automatically as he always had before. "I want to visit Dr. Jackson," she said, giving him a stern look.

"Dr. Jackson is working on something, ma'am," the airman replied politely. "General Hammond has given orders that he not be disturbed."

_Hammond gave orders?_ She nodded and walked away, wondering what the hell was going on. Thus far, Hammond had always left the care, feeding and management of the Daniels up to SG-1. What had changed?

She headed to Colonel O'Neill's office to see if he was there, but there was no sign of him. She called down to the gate and got the news that he had gone for the day. Baffled, she went to the locker room and headed out herself. Without the colonel, she had no one in authority to appeal to, so there was no point in staying. She got changed and went home.

The house was dark and dreary. She hadn't spent much time at home lately, and though the service prevented things from getting dusty, it didn't prevent the pall of disuse from falling over everything. She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, only to realize that she had nothing worth cooking in the house.

She was on the phone with Domino's when someone knocked on the door. It was rather startling, but she figured it was just one of her neighbors with the mail or the newspaper or something. She finished her call and went to the door just as whoever it was started knocking again. They weren't so much knocking as pounding, and the sound made her unaccountably nervous.

"Carter!"

She peered through the peephole and saw the colonel outside. Her mouth went dry and she opened the door. "Sir?"

"Good, you're home," he said, pushing past her. "Let's go out to dinner."

"Sir?" she repeated, feeling more than a little startled. He was agitated and almost manic. "I just ordered pizza."

"It'll keep."

"No, I mean it's coming –" He turned and gave her a very intense Look, and she shut up. "Of course, sir, just let me grab my purse."

She picked up her purse and he hustled her out the door, barely giving her time to lock it. "Truck's unlocked," he said shortly as he headed around to the driver's side. She climbed in, utterly astonished, and he started moving before she even got her seatbelt fastened.

"Sir, is –"

"Mexican or Italian?"

"Mexican would be fine," she said.

"Seafood?"

"Sounds good, but –" Interrupting her blithely, he started babbling on about a particular Mexican seafood restaurant that he liked. This segued into a discussion of seafood in general which she joined in on after a moment. He clearly didn't want to talk about what was bothering him yet, so she played along, hoping this wasn't some new demonstration of his growing insanity.

When they reached the restaurant, she followed him inside where it was total chaos. The waitress held up two fingers and raised her eyebrows, because there was no way she could have been heard without yelling. The colonel nodded and she beckoned them on into the noise.

They wound up at a table in a corner, and the colonel seated her with her back to the wall, then pulled his chair around so that they were sitting very close together. Then he leaned in so that his head was right next to hers. "Can you hear me, Carter?" he asked loudly. She nodded. "Good. We have to talk."

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Hell yes, something's wrong!"

"What is it, sir? I know they wouldn't let me in to see Daniel this evening."

His eyes fairly flashed with rage. "They probably didn't want you to see him upset," he said.

"Why is he upset?" she asked. "What's going on, sir?"

He looked away and gestured towards her menu. She looked up and saw that the waitress was back. She looked quickly at the menu and held up three fingers. The colonel placed his order in the same fashion and the waitress took the menus and left, giving Samantha a knowing wink. She managed a smile and then turned back to her superior officer.

"Sir, what –"

"Hammond has to go," he said abruptly.

"What?!" She stared at him in shock.

"Hammond has to go! He's gone too far."

"Sir, I don't understand. Why is Daniel upset, and what –"

"Hammond had Warner put a bomb in him."

She blinked a couple of times, then shook her head. She must have heard that wrong. "Did you just say –"

"Bomb, Carter!" he yelled. "B. O. M. B. Bomb. A little one, designed to scramble his heart muscle, set off by remote control."

Her jaw dropped. She could see several reasons right off the bat that Hammond might decide to do something of the sort, but she'd never have thought even he was so ruthless.

"While we were gone, they made him skip a meal by the simple expediency of not taking it in to him, drugged him and perpetrated this atrocity on his helpless and undefended body."

"Did you speak to Hammond?" she asked.

"Oh yes. I went to see him, to suggest very politely that he remove the damned thing from Daniel's chest and was informed that I was, perhaps, growing too close to the situation. That if I didn't feel like I could be objective, I could be removed from the project."

Samantha felt as if her brain had frozen. A bomb. In Daniel's chest. Next to his heart. Designed to kill him. It was too much to absorb. The colonel . . . off the project . . . there was a time when she would have been delighted by that notion. No more Daniels getting beaten to a bloody pulp . . . but the general was worse. Clearly and definitively worse.

"Did you tell Daniel, or –"

"No, the general took care of that." The colonel still looked furious. "Daniel thought we knew, that we just didn't want to be around when it happened. I pointed out that it rather spoiled the trust we'd been building with him."

"And?"

"And he said that Daniel didn't need to trust him."

Samantha closed her eyes. It was Sunday. She'd have to find the time to get to that damned café tomorrow. This couldn't go on. She couldn't stand idly by while they vandalized Daniel's body to force him to comply.

"There were also some veiled threats about what might happen to him if I challenge the general's authority again."

"When did you challenge his authority?"

He looked annoyed. "During the conversation. I asked him, politely, what the hell he thought he was doing interfering in my jurisdiction."

"Politely?" she repeated.

"Okay, so I yelled it at the top of my lungs, but, damn it, he gave me full authority over the project to find ourselves a Daniel, and I did it. It's my project!"

"Are you saying he threatened to kill Daniel if you didn't –"

"Yes, Carter!" He looked utterly furious. "We have got to take steps, but it can't be overt, or Hammond will pick up on it."

"Yes sir." She thought hard. What could they do? "How did the conversation with Hammond end?"

"He did tell me that we no longer have access to the transdimensional mirror," O'Neill said. She raised her eyebrows. "It's been removed because he intends to keep this Daniel."

"Well, if he's gotten rid of the mirror, then he must think this Daniel will work out. He can't really be planning to kill him."

"I didn't say he got rid of it, Carter. He didn't say that. It's more like he's put it out of our reach." Which meant that sending him home was not going to be easy. "I tried to tell him it's not necessary, Daniel is adjusting fine, he will stay voluntarily, but Hammond wouldn't listen to me. He just doesn't get it."

She shook her head. She wasn't as sure as the colonel that this Daniel was adjusting, but she wasn't going to argue that point. "We have to find the mirror," she said.

"Why? The mirror's not important now. What's important is getting rid of Hammond so he's no longer a threat to Daniel."

"We could shove him through the mirror!" Samantha said, improvising wildly. "No body, no blame. We found a couple particularly unpleasant locations in our search for Daniels, didn't we? We use the phase shifters, get him to the mirror, then put him through. No one would know what happened to him."

The colonel was just staring at her, eyes wide. Then he smiled slowly with appreciation. "You're more ruthless than I thought, Carter," he said. "I approve."

"Thank you, sir," she said uneasily. She was more ruthless than she'd thought she was, too, because she really meant it, but Hammond had crossed a line that was unacceptable. Daniel had never done any of them any harm, he didn't deserve this.

"It's a good plan to start with, but we can only count on ourselves. He's insisting that Daniel be kept in his cell till he's had further conversations with him, about what he wouldn't say, and I don't entirely trust Kowalski."

She shook her head. "No, I agree with you there," she replied. "This should remain between us. We can't even tell Daniel because of the surveillance tapes."

The food arrived a moment later and she looked down at it. Her stomach was a roiling mess right now, and shrimp weren't remotely appetizing. Still, she had to eat, and her pizza was undoubtedly on the way back to the restaurant with the curses of the delivery boy. The colonel leaned close to her ear. "I think we've said enough for now. I'll come by your place on Thursday to take you out again. Be ready."

"Yes sir."

"If anyone asks us, we're having an entirely inappropriate relationship," he said. "The punishment for that would be considerably less severe."

Ordinarily, the very idea would offend her deeply, but the circumstances were such that she couldn't object. Her hesitation must have been long enough for him to be uncertain of her reaction, because he knit his brows.

"Lieutenant, Daniel's safety must come first."

She nodded. "Of course, sir. I quite agree."

"Good."

"It . . . I wonder, what if whoever follows Hammond is worse?" she asked.

He raised his eyebrows. "I will follow Hammond, Carter," he replied.

"Are you sure?"

"I get results," he said. "That's all the president and the joint chiefs care about. You just might need to be prepared to provide proof that Hammond was passing information to the NID or something along those lines."

"I think I can manage that," she said, nodding.

"Good. Then eat up. I want to get home and get some sleep."

"Will we be allowed to see Daniel tomorrow?"

"I don't know, Carter." He looked quietly angry. "At the moment, the ball is very much in Hammond's court."


	9. Chapter 9

**_Sunday, April 18_  
Reality A001**

Frustrated, Daniel got up again and threw his pen down. He couldn't concentrate. The monument was now two days behind, and he'd barely eaten anything. He was so angry, so disgusted, so . . . damn it . . . so frightened. His thoughts wouldn't focus past the emotions he was feeling.

He started pacing again. He couldn't get his mind into any kind of order. Every time he was sure he'd gotten himself back under control, his thoughts would stray and he'd wind up thinking about what had been done to him.

It was nearly nine o'clock. The lights would be dimming in an hour, and he wouldn't have gotten a single thing done all day. Jack might have been sympathetic this morning, but if he didn't show some progress, he had a feeling . . .

Had he really tried to get the bomb removed? Would he succeed? Would Hammond listen to him? But would Daniel have the courage to be anesthetized again, not trusting the doctor's ethics in the slightest?

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He needed to stop –

The door opened behind him and he turned to see the large airman who'd been with General Hammond the day before coming in, followed by Hammond himself. Daniel stared in shock. Were they about to have one of the 'conversations' Hammond had promised him, or was this something else?

"Good evening, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said, but his tone was sharp and nothing in his eyes reflected the sentiment those words implied. "Please, sit down."

Daniel walked over and sat in what he thought of as his guest chair as Hammond took a seat in the desk chair. "Hello, sir." The airman stood behind the general, as phlegmatic and stoic as before. Daniel noticed his name tag today, though. Berman.

"Now, I have been very patient. I told you that no work would be expected of you yesterday, and that seemed fair. You had a lot to take in." Daniel blinked and nodded uncertainly. "But you've done nothing whatsoever today but behave like a hysteric."

Daniel took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I –"

"Your 'I'm sorry' doesn't get me any translation, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said sharply. "I don't want apologies, I want results."

Emotions were coursing through Daniel, and he couldn't seem to control them. "How can you possibly expect me to work like this?" he demanded.

Hammond looked taken aback. "Don't take that tone with me, young man."

Daniel shot up out of his chair and glared at the older man. "You have plucked me from my home, held me prisoner, forced me to work sixteen hours a day without let up, and now you've placed a bomb in my chest to kill me if I get out of line!"

"Sit down, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said, eyes narrow.

"I'm supposed to spend four or five hours moping and then get over it?" Daniel asked angrily. He shook his head angrily. "What do you think I am?"

"Replaceable!" Hammond snapped. Daniel froze like a deer in headlights, staring at those cold eyes. "And don't you forget it." The general paused for a moment as if waiting for Daniel to respond. "Sit down, Dr. Jackson," he repeated.

Feeling like a coward, Daniel sat.

"I will expect a full day's work out of you tomorrow, Dr. Jackson. Don't disappoint me." With that Hammond rose and took his leave. Daniel sat, staring at the empty chair, until the lights dimmed. Then he got up, walked across the room and fell into bed.

Replaceable.

* * *

_**Monday, April 19** _

Samantha took a tray to Daniel's room at seven thirty on the dot, but the airman shook his head. "Sorry, ma'am," he said.

"Look, I'm not here to visit, I just want to take him his breakfast," she said.

"No, ma'am, you could go in if you wanted, but we have orders not to permit him to have either breakfast or lunch today."

She stared for a moment, then turned away. Taking the tray with her, she went to Colonel O'Neill's office. "Sir?" she said as she entered the doorway.

He looked up. "Thanks for the thought, Carter," he said, "but I've already eaten."

"This isn't for you, sir, it's for Daniel."

"Then why did you bring it here?" the colonel asked reasonably.

She put a lid on her temper. "Because the airmen have been given orders not to allow breakfast or lunch to be given to Daniel today."

O'Neill looked at her silently for a moment, then stood up. Taking the tray from her, he walked out of the room. She followed him down to Daniel's room where he went through the same dialogue with the guards. When it became clear that the orders were firm, the colonel turned away from the door, his jaw set angrily, handed the tray back to her and said, "Go to your office, lieutenant. I'm sure you have work to do."

Taking that for the dismissal it was, Samantha went straight to her office, put the tray on a counter out of the way and sat down at her desk. She couldn't figure out why Hammond would be punishing Daniel, so she pulled up the surveillance data to see what had happened.

The day before was a lot of pacing, a lot of sitting at the desk for five or ten minutes, then getting up and throwing things. A few bouts of tears, for which she damned both Hammond and O'Neill. And then, towards the end of his day, a visit from Hammond. The door to her office opened and she hit the shortcut she'd created to minimize the window and mute it instantly.

The colonel came in seeming totally calm on the surface, but she could see that he positively vibrated with tension. He shut the door behind him and then punched it.

"What happened?" she asked.

"General Hammond told me that Daniel was disrespectful and insubordinate towards him yesterday, and that he was being punished. Then he informed me that I had better make sure my personnel shaped up better in the future, or steps would be taken."

Her eyes widened. "You'd better warn Daniel, then."

"I was waiting until my temper cooled. I'd also like to know just what he did, and I'm pretty sure you've got a tie in to the surveillance footage in here."

She blinked and nodded. Then she turned and called up the images again. "I think I was just about to the problem, sir," she said.

He bent to look at the screen, putting a hand on her shoulder, and they watched together as Hammond and Daniel had their confrontation. The utter shock on Daniel's face as Hammond told him he was replaceable made her heart skip a beat. She wondered if he thought at all about the man who would come after him, or if all his thoughts were for himself. If she knew Daniel, he was as worried about the man who would follow.

"I'd better go talk to him. What's he doing right now?"

She tapped a few keys and called up the current images. Daniel was sitting at his desk, working. The view was from behind, so she couldn't get a look at his face, but his shoulders looked very tense.

"I'll see you later, Samantha," O'Neill said. She looked up at him, startled, and he raised his eyebrows as if to remind her of their 'relationship.'

"See you later," she said, biting off the 'sir' that came automatically to her lips.

He squeezed her shoulder and left.

* * *

Daniel didn't let anything distract him from his work. Every thought, every emotion that might distract him was shunted aside. Today was the start of his third week here, and he had to keep going, had to survive. If he didn't, a new Daniel would be stolen and the cycle would start again.

Last night, deep in the night, it had occurred to him that this might be permanent. That it might not be possible for his friends to find him here, in this reality. They had no controller, and no indication of where he had wound up. And then it had occurred to him to wonder what they would do here if he was rescued. They'd probably just go out and find another Daniel, and that had made him want to weep. He couldn't save himself at the cost of another man's life.

So he worked. He translated. He focused as hard as he could on the monument and on nothing else. The translation was coming along apace, though he feared its quality was suffering.

The door opened and he hunched. Then he shook himself and got back to work. He wasn't going to be distracted.

"Hey, Daniel," Jack said as the door thumped shut.

"Hello, Jack," Daniel said without looking up.

"Daniel, I need to talk to you."

"I'm sorry, Jack, I can't. I have to finish this. General Hammond isn't happy with how quickly I've been working."

"You can take a couple of minutes to listen to me."

Daniel shook his head, trying to figure out if the word he was looking at was 'lead' or 'follow.' In context it could be either and it was kind of a crucial difference. "Jack, I need to get this done."

"Come on, Daniel!" Jack put a hand on his shoulder and Daniel pulled away.

"I'm trying to concentrate," Daniel said.

Jack slammed a fist down on the desk, making Daniel's pens jump. "Damn it, Daniel!"

He flinched away and looked up, terrified that he had now pissed Jack off, too. "I'm sorry, Jack, please, don't be angry, but –" The look on Jack's face made him falter to a stop. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Please, I have to get this done. I'm not trying to upset you, but Hammond was very angry that I didn't get anything done yesterday."

Jack's expression softened, and he lowered himself to the chair beside the desk. "I'm not angry with you, Daniel. I just . . . I have something I need to tell you, and you need to hear it. It won't take long."

Hand shaking, Daniel put the pen down and turned to face Jack.

"Hammond has given orders that you're not to be given breakfast or lunch today because you were, to quote him, 'insubordinate.'"

Daniel nodded tensely. "I see. I suppose I was."

Jack looked a little startled, but he leaned forward and put his hand on Daniel's shoulder. "You have to control yourself, Danny, and so do I. He's got us both in a stranglehold. I'm sorry, I didn't expect this."

"It's not your fault, Jack," Daniel said. "And I'll manage, I promise. I can't . . . I can't let him bring another Daniel here."

Jack smiled. "We'll see to it that doesn't happen, Danny. Don't worry."

"Thanks, Jack," Daniel said, feeling very surreal. This Jack was his enemy and his ally both at once. He wanted to protect him from Hammond, but if Daniel tried to go home . . . he shook his head. "Now I've got to get back to work, okay?"

"Sure, Danny. I'll be by with your dinner later on."

"Thanks." Daniel turned away and started trying to work out the lead/follow question again. He flipped to another photo that had the word for 'follow' on it, barely even noticing when Jack rose and left the room.

* * *

**Reality L583**

"Janet, if I were an ordinary patient in an ordinary hospital, you'd have sent me home by now. Can't I go someplace a little more private? One of the guest rooms? An isolation room? A closet!"

Jack paused on the threshold to hear the doctor's response. "Daniel," she said, "I don't want you alone. You can't get around on your own."

"So?!" Daniel exclaimed.

"That's really not a good time to be alone, Daniel," she said. "I can't give you crutches because you have a broken arm and broken ribs. A wheelchair is also not really something you can do solo because of the broken arm. You –"

"I need to be alone!" Daniel said. "Please, Janet, you don't understand. I really need some time alone. I can't stand this!"

Jack backed away from the entrance to the room and went to where they stored supplies and pulled out a wheelchair and went back to where Daniel and Fraiser were arguing. "I'm taking you away from all this, Daniel," Jack said. Fraiser shot him an angry glance. "Come on, doc, he needs to be away from people, and you need to have your bed back."

"Colonel O'Neill, the fact remains that he shouldn't be alone."

"He won't be alone," Jack said, and they both looked at him suspiciously. "Or rather, he will be alone, but I'll be there, too."

Fraiser looked thoughtful, but Daniel groaned. "That wouldn't be alone, Jack. I need quiet. I need solitude."

"I can be quiet. You won't even know I'm there."

"It what reality?" Daniel demanded, looking exceptionally dubious.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere else, so I'd have to say this one."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "I just have difficulty imagining a Jack who is capable of silence."

"Now, is that polite?" Jack asked, grinning. "Honestly, Daniel, I'll manage it."

"Fine," Daniel said, giving him a dubious look. He turned to Dr. Fraiser. "Janet, it's nothing against you, but I want out of the infirmary."

"I know," she said. "Our Daniel would have been agitating sooner." Jack snorted, and she gave him a wink.

"Well, I don't know you people," Daniel said, giving her that unbelievably innocent look. It seemed Daniels specialized in them. "I wouldn't want to be rude."

"Lord," Fraiser said after a moment. "Two of them. Get him out of here, colonel."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said.

With a little help from the good doctor, they got Daniel into the wheelchair. "I'm not so sure about this, colonel," she said as they finally got him positioned. "Daniel, you can't –"

"You said I should start trying to walk in the next few days anyway, right?" She pursed her lips. "Look, I've agreed not to be alone, but I really need to be out of the public eye. You're having more and more trouble keeping people from drifting back this way, and either your Daniel is a hopeless flirt or he has no clue what effect he has on women."

Jack blinked. "You know about that?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Daniel asked. "These women come in and get all . . . well . . . motherly, but there's a hint of . . ." He shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it."

Sighing, Jack sat down. "The thing you've got to keep in mind is that our Daniel is the devoted, grief-stricken husband of a missing wife, and I have a feeling that most of the people on base don't figure we'll ever get her back. There seems to be a strong desire on the part of much of the female staff to offer him solace."

"Oh yeah," Fraiser said. "It's hell on my nursing staff. I wish you'd keep him out of the infirmary more."

"I see," Daniel said, wide-eyed.

"You've been married for as long as those folks have known you, and you have kids. Only the real morons would hit on you under those circumstances."

"I suppose you're right," Daniel said. "And Sha're would probably notice before I did and chase them off."

"Probably," Jack said. "Well, let's get you to one of the guest rooms. Maybe we can have Teal'c spell me. He's certainly big enough to pick you up if you need it."

"Teal'c would be good. He's a lot quieter than you."

"Charming," Jack said. "See if I ever spring you from the infirmary again."

"Let's hope it's not necessary, hmm?"

Jack sighed. "Yeah," he said shortly, the mask of facetious humor falling away from both their faces. Two weeks and Daniel was still gone.

* * *

**Reality A001**

Samantha walked out to her car in the parking lot, a white envelope in her hands. Using some water and a paper towel from the car, she cleaned a patch on her bumper for the sticker that was inside the envelope. She still hadn't looked at it.

Drying the clean stretch of bumper off thoroughly, she pulled out the sticker. It read "I brake for quarks." She stared at it, blinking for a moment, then peeled off the backing. Aligning it carefully, she put it on the bumper and stepped back to see how it looked. Odd, but no one would think twice to see that written on her car.

She shrugged and picked up her purse and the water bottle. Climbing into her car, she drove out of the parking lot. It was five fifteen, so she was going to have to drive like a speed demon to get downtown in time for this meeting, and she had no idea how someone was supposed to meet her there after seeing her bumper sticker.

When she got there, the closest parking spot was two blocks away, so she walked quickly down the street from her car, glancing at her watch. It was six o'clock as she entered the little place and she looked around, wondering who she was meeting and if they were there yet.

It was pretty crowded with the kind of people who had Greenpeace stickers on their SUVs. She ordered a latte and sat down at a free table to wait, trying not to glance at the door too frequently. She didn't want to seem overly conspicuous.

After she'd been there for ten minutes, she heard a voice behind her. "Lt. Carter, what an unexpected pleasure." She turned and stared at Lt. Colonel Harry Maybourne. He must come here often, she thought. Why would anyone in their right mind choose to have a clandestine meeting at a place Maybourne frequented?

"Lt. Colonel Maybourne," she said, forcing a smile.

"May I join you?" he asked as he pulled out the other chair and sat down, ignoring her faint protests. She didn't want to state too categorically that she was meeting someone in case – her thoughts were wrenched away by his next words. "I like this place because they don't waste any resources."

Her eyes met his and he smiled. _Maybourne? I'm meeting with Maybourne? The colonel will_ kill _me._

"Lieutenant, don't look so worried. We're on the same side in this. We both want to see a certain person go back where he belongs."

"Maybe so, but that's easier said than done," she replied. "What's your stake in this?"

"Isn't the moral imperative enough?" he asked. "He's an innocent who doesn't deserve this and never asked for it."

She blinked at him dubiously. "I have difficulty believing in disinterested motives."

He shook his head. "I find that altogether unsurprising, my dear," he said. "If you need interested motives, consider this. Sooner or later a Carter from elsewhere is going to figure out where we are and then where will we be?"

"In deep shit," she said flatly.

"Indelicate but accurate." He leaned across the table. "I've heard some very disquieting rumors from the base."

She hesitated. This could be nothing more than a ploy to learn more about what was going on at the SGC. "Rumors?" she hedged.

"Now is not the time and this is not the place for a more in depth conversation. We must meet again. Where and when?"

"When are you on base next?" she asked.

He tilted his head. "I can be on base whenever it suits."

"Then be in that room you use as an office at two tomorrow. Leave the door open." She stood up. "Good bye, sir," she said.

"Good bye, lieutenant," he replied and she walked away.

Out in her car she tried valiantly to wrap her mind around the notion that she was actually thinking about working with the NID. On the other hand, if Maybourne had a plan that would get this Daniel home, she was all for it. Whatever she had to face afterwards would be worth it, so long as they could also keep them from going after more Daniels. No more stopgaps. This had to end.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Monday, April 19_  
Reality A001**

Daniel's eyes were burning and his head was pounding. The muscles in his back were protesting the amount of time he'd spent bent over this desk, and his brain was beginning to seize up. But he couldn't stop working. Daniel had no doubts whatsoever that Hammond would calmly order his death and . . . and replacement.

He poured himself another cup of coffee and started drinking. It was cold now, but the caffeine was still just as strong. Too much caffeine was probably not good for him, but he needed something in his stomach because the acid was churning.

He'd finished the remainder of the second side of the monument and was now well into the third, but he wasn't absolutely confident that he was making sense. Every time he tried to stop and read what he'd done so far, his nerves wouldn't let him concentrate. The door opened every so often to admit someone bearing coffee, and when it did, he jumped, half expecting an angry General Hammond. He missed the kindly general from home.

The door opened again and he stiffened. It shut and smells came wafting across the room that awakened the hunger that had died grumbling at around three. Daniel turned and saw Jack crossing the room with a plate of spaghetti. He knit his brows. Spaghetti was messy, two-handed food. Jack put the tray down in front of him and Daniel shook his head. "I can't eat this. I don't have time."

"What do you mean?" Jack demanded.

"I have to work. I can't stop to eat, and spaghetti isn't something to you can eat while working. It's too spattery."

Jack didn't say anything immediately. Then he said, "That's not a word."

"What's not a word?" Daniel asked, scanning his writing.

"You made that up," Jack accused.

"Made what up?" Daniel asked. He couldn't see anything that odd or out of place in the text. "What are you talking about?"

"'Spattery.' That's not a word."

Daniel looked up incredulously. "Is so."

"Is not."

"Is so."

"Is not."

Daniel shook his head. "Jack, things spatter, therefore they are spattery. It's a valid construction."

There was a pause, and then Jack cleared his throat. "Is not."

"Jack!" Daniel took a deep breath to control his reaction. "I don't have time to debate this with you. I have to –"

"Eat!" Jack interposed. "You need to eat."

"Can you get me something a little less splattery?" Daniel asked. The spaghetti looked and smelled good, but he didn't dare take the time.

"Now it's 'splattery'?" Jack demanded. "'Splattery' is not a word."

"I am not getting into this with you again, Jack," Daniel said in exasperation. "I need to work. Hammond –"

"Hammond expects you to take meal breaks." Jack sounded like he was trying to be reasonable. Daniel was afraid that meant he was getting angry. "You need to eat to work, he knows that."

Despite the fact that he didn't want to piss Jack off, Daniel felt a surge of anger. "That must be why he didn't feed me breakfast or lunch," he growled.

Jack's eyes snapped and Daniel flinched slightly. "I know. I'm pissed about that, too, but there wasn't anything I could do about it."

Daniel stared at him. That was not the reaction he'd been expecting. Maybe . . . did he dare? He wet his lips nervously. "What about the bomb?" he asked after a moment.

Jack's look of fury deepened, but this time Daniel could tell that the anger wasn't directed at him. "I tried, Daniel, but no luck."

Daniel's arms crept around his midsection, the fingers of his right hand touching the stitches in his left side where a murder weapon had been implanted inside him. It hurt to touch it, but he couldn't help it. His fingers were drawn by the horror of it. "I hate this," he said, gulping.

"I know," Jack said, sitting down next to him. "I'll keep trying. But right now, you need to eat, and if you don't I'm going to take the papers away until you do."

He closed his eyes. "Jack, I –"

"Damn it, Daniel!" Jack yelled suddenly and Daniel jumped, so startled that he nearly fell off his chair. "You have to eat. Trust me, Hammond won't begrudge you the time it takes to eat your dinner."

"I . . ." Daniel took a deep breath. "I have to go to the bathroom. Give me a minute." He got up and went into the little room and shut the door, leaning against it for support. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. One minute this Jack seemed so normal, so much like his Jack as they went back and forth in a tit for tat fight, but then the next he scared the living daylights out of him. It was a roller coaster that he couldn't get off of, and Hammond just spiced things up a little.

Daniel crossed to the sink and washed his hands. He pulled his composure back around himself and walked into the room again. Jack had shifted the tray to the end of the desk by the guest chair and was sitting in the desk chair looking at the translation. Daniel walked over and sat down to eat. It was still hot and tasted as good as it smelled. When he started to eat quickly, Jack tapped his hand.

"Don't eat so fast you make yourself sick, Danny. Eat like a normal person."

After that he tried to slow down, tried to behave normally, but it was very hard. He felt like he was caught between dragons, one that blew hot and cold and the other that just blew hot. He was hungry enough, though, that he ate everything on the plate, which he didn't usually do.

When he was done, Jack took the tray and handed it out to the soldiers outside. While he was up, Daniel shifted back to his own chair. A moment later, as he picked up his pencil and started to go to work on the next section of the translation, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked up. "I've got to get back to work, Jack."

Jack pulled the guest chair closer and sat down so that his knees were actually touching Daniel's leg. "I know, Daniel, but we need to talk a little about that." He took Daniel's pencil out of his hand and put it down on the table. "Hammond's really got you scared, doesn't he?" Jack asked confidentially.

Daniel shuddered. He couldn't let on how much they both scared him. The only person he'd met since he came to this reality who didn't scare him was Samantha, and he was beginning to wonder when she'd start behaving like a lunatic.

"Well, let me tell you something, you need to take a deep breath and let that go." Jack's hand was still on his shoulder and he squeezed reassuringly. "I know he can be scary, believe me, but he's even more scary if things aren't done right."

"What are you talking about?" Daniel asked, his mouth dry.

Jack reached out his other hand and tugged the paper Daniel had last been working on towards them. "Read that."

"I don't have time for games, Jack, what –"

Jack's hand tightened on his shoulder and Daniel faltered to a stop. "Not playing games, Danny. This is serious. I want you to do whatever you need to do to clear your head of worry and nerves, and read through that page."

Daniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he took another one and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was calmer. Not much calmer, but enough that he thought he could look at the page without getting distracted.

He read through it and winced more than once at the awkward translations and the places where he'd translated words without care for context. "Damn it!" he moaned. "I can't focus. Not . . . I –" He broke off, shaking his head. "No – I have to focus. It's not a choice, is it." His voice didn't make that sound like a question, and it wasn't really. It was a fact.

"No, Danny, you don't," Jack said. "But don't be too hard on yourself. This is a difficult situation, and we just have to do what we can."

Daniel looked down and tried not to think about the reasons that this situation existed in the first place. He couldn't think about that without getting angry, and that wouldn't be any help right now. "I'll just read through everything and make sure it all follows." He took a deep breath and looked over at Jack. "Thanks for pointing it out for me."

"Hey, no big deal," Jack said. "What are big brothers for, after all?"

Daniel managed a smile and then returned to work. Jack hung around for awhile, fiddling with things, acting so like the Jack in Daniel's own reality that it made him crazy. Finally, Daniel said, "Jack, not that I mind the company, exactly, but could you go somewhere else? I'm having some trouble focusing."

"No problem," Jack said. He walked over and tousled Daniel's hair. "I'll see you in the morning, Danny."

"Good night, Jack," Daniel replied.

With Jack gone, the work went much more swiftly. He read through what he'd done, and much of it was okay, but there were places where he'd obviously missed not only the boat but the harbor. Taking greater care, he worked those passages through again and then went on. He didn't achieve much more new before the lights dimmed, but he was confident that he'd fixed the problems he'd created thus far.

He took a shower, feeling grungy with sweat and nerves. Then he climbed into bed and curled up tightly. If he took out his feelings and examined them closely, as he only dared do when he was in the dark, he knew he was terrified. He hated to admit it, but he was afraid that his own folks hadn't saved the other Daniel and had somehow not realized that it wasn't him. He was afraid that even if they had realized that the other Daniel wasn't him, they wouldn't be able to find a way to retrieve him and get that Daniel home.

He was afraid that he was falling too easily into dangerous patterns again. He wasn't fighting back, he wasn't trying to escape, he wasn't doing anything but what they told him to. Admittedly, he didn't know how he could possibly escape. There were guards on his door, he'd seen them when people came in and out, and the only weapons he had in here were books. Books could be useful as blunt instruments, but they weren't much protection against guns. Fighting back at this point would only get him very dead. He could just see how angry his Jack would be if they did manage to get here only to find that he'd gotten himself killed in some futile rebellion.

That was another thing. The idea of Jack as his brother was seductive, but not this Jack. His own Jack, who acted about half the time as if he thought Daniel was a major screw up, and the rest of the time like . . . like a brother. Maybe all of the time. He knew guys whose brothers thought they were screw ups. But the words had never been said, the thought never articulated aloud. It wasn't the kind of thing you could ask about or ask for.

He sighed and tucked in tighter. He had to get some sleep. He had to rest or he wouldn't be worth much tomorrow. That, he couldn't risk.

* * *

_**Tuesday, April 20** _

Daniel set to work immediately upon rising the next morning, feeling oddly energized. His mind seemed to have spent most of the night working through the project in his dreams. He checked through last night's work again to make sure he hadn't screwed anything else up, then kept going, working more quickly than he had the day before and making fewer mistakes.

He didn't like having a bomb next to his heart, and he thought his reaction was perfectly rational. Nevertheless, he had to face facts, and one of those was that if he hoped to get home he had to survive whatever these bastards threw at him. There were things he couldn't and wouldn't do, but short of those, he just had to suck it up and get things done.

He kept bemoaning his lack of choices, but he did have choices. They weren't good choices, but life was like that. Sometimes there were millions of choices and it was hard to decide which option to go with. Sometimes there were as few as two, such as this case. Work or die. At the moment, he was choosing the option that kept him alive. When other options turned up, he'd face them as they came, and choose then, but he wouldn't live to see those choices if he acted the fool now.

At seven thirty, Jack came in with a fresh carafe of coffee. "Good morning, Danny," he said.

"Good morning," Daniel said. He hated that nickname with a passion, but he wasn't going to fight the man on something so paltry. He could almost hear his own Jack, counseling him on an occasion when he was so frustrated with some of the more macho SGC personnel that he could spit. _'Pick your battles, Daniel. If you fight over everything, you'll wear yourself out and lose anyway. Pick the battles that matter.'_ The nickname didn't matter. The bomb did, but Jack had already said he'd done everything he could to solve it and failed. Whether that was true or not was irrelevant. Daniel couldn't know either way, and pushing it would piss Jack off either way.

"This is what we have this morning in the commissary," Jack said, putting a piece of paper in front of him. "What would you like to have for breakfast?"

Daniel looked at the list in surprise. He chose eggs, fruit and waffles, and, smiling, Jack went away again. He kept thinking, over and over again, how incredibly surreal this was. He shook his head and got back to work.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Tuesday, April 20_  
Reality A001**

Samantha got the work she had to do out of the way quickly, giving as little attention as possible to projects that would ordinarily have taken up a good deal of her attention and interest. She had to be ready to go at one-thirty so that she could meet with Maybourne.

She was just turning to go when Sgt. Siler walked in looking more than a little nervous. He walked in and shut the door behind him. He stuck his hand in his pocket and then said, "Lieutenant, what's going on around here? I don't like what I'm seeing or what I'm hearing."

Samantha gaped at him. "Sergeant, what are you –" she started, glancing towards the camera in the corner.

He cut her off. "I've got something here," he said, pulling his hand out of his pocket and patting it, "that will prevent the cameras from picking anything up until I turn it off again." Her eyes went to his pocket. "I've tested it a few times, very circumspectly, and I can guarantee it works."

"I see," she said. "Well, what are you talking about?"

"Dr. Warner has resigned his commission," he said. "He says he can't keep on here, not with the way things are going. Some of us don't have that option, lieutenant. Some of us are stuck for the long haul, and we want to know what's happening."

"What's happening concerning what?"

Siler's face twisted. "The Dr. Jackson that's locked in that little room, ma'am," he said. She glanced at the clock. Her time was ticking away. "All I know for certain is that he was taken into surgery two days ago, very interestingly timed for when you and the rest of SG-1 were off base. I asked Dr. Warner what was wrong with him, and the man broke down. He started crying and said there was nothing wrong with Dr. Jackson. I figured the colonel had . . ." Siler shook his head. "But Warner said that O'Neill's been totally different with this Daniel. That the general had made him do the dirty work. That he couldn't stay . . . that he had to leave because he couldn't cope."

Samantha gulped. "I hope you did this with whatever that is activated," she said.

He grimaced. "I've used it a little more often than I probably should, lately. The security guys are getting a little worried about the cameras that keep failing, but Hammond's got them so intent on fixing the cameras that they're not looking for outside causes yet. But they will eventually."

"Right," she said. "So, what do you want from me?"

"There are other things going on, things you might not have noticed because you and the colonel have been so focused on the hunt for a Daniel Jackson that would last longer than a month."

"Like what things?"

"Like Hammond pushing the teams so hard that people are coming back dead or not coming back at all. Or some of the newer people he's brought into the program. People I wouldn't want to meet in a back alley, some of them. Black ops at best." Samantha blinked. "Hammond's so obsessed with results these days that he's sending people through the gate with pretty damned heavy ordnance. Nobody can match the results SG-1 got with Dr. Jackson, but Hammond's determined to make them try."

"Meanwhile we're making more and more enemies out there with every raid he runs."

"Yes, ma'am. Word is the Tok'ra don't want anything to do with us anymore, and they were our only allies."

"Where'd you hear this?" she asked.

"I keep my ear to the ground, lieutenant," he said, giving her a very dry smile. "Time was, you wouldn't have to hear it from me, ma'am."

"Time was, we had our Daniel Jackson," she said. "Look, I'm . . . we're going to try to do something to change all that, Siler."

"We?" he asked. "You and who else?"

"I can't really say –"

"Is it Colonel O'Neill? Because I'm not sure how far I'd trust him. He's . . . forgive me, ma'am, but he's flipped."

"He is," she said, "and if you ever repeat that I'll deny I said it." He nodded with a ghost of a grin. "But it might be possible to bring him back. I think a lot of it's Hammond's fault for pushing him so hard."

"And his own fault for killing Dr. Jackson."

"That was an accident," Samantha said sharply.

"I know," Siler replied grimly. "I know it wasn't intentional, but it was still his fault, and he knows it. I think that's a lot of what's wrong with him."

Sam scowled. "You may be right. Look, I've got to go. I have something I have to do, but find an opportunity when we can talk again, okay? I may need your help."

"Yes, ma'am," Siler said. He reached into his pocket again. "It will take thirty seconds to stop interfering. We should be talking about something else when the camera comes back on line." She nodded and he did something in his pocket, then quickly crossed his arms.

"And make sure that the frequency never drops below . . ." She continued for a few moments, giving him perfectly valid instructions for monitoring an experiment that could take care of itself. Of course, there was probably no one on base beyond Siler who would know that.

"Yes, ma'am," he said and she left the lab quickly, heading to the nearest women's restroom. She took the back stall and pulled her feet up, then activated the phase shifter she had under her left sleeve, setting it to level 1. She was just enough out of phase that she could see the people around her as dim shadows, but no one could see her. She'd left the door ajar, so she crept out of the stall and through the halls as quickly as she could. Fortunately, given how late a start she'd gotten, Maybourne's 'office,' really a togged up janitor's closet, was on this level. Unfortunately, it was at the other end of this level.

When she got there, he was looking very irritable. He was going through mission reports and making notes of some kind, one of his favorite things to do according to Colonel O'Neill. She took a sheet of paper out of her pocket and carefully placed it on top of the report he was reading. After it had been out of her possession for about forty-three seconds, it would shift back into phase. While waiting for that, she walked over to the corner of the room that was not covered by the security cameras and took out the second phase shifter she'd brought and put it down at the end of the cabinet.

Then she leaned against the wall at the other end of the cabinet and watched Maybourne. She could tell the moment the paper shifted back into phase. It was unlikely in the extreme that any of the cameras would pick it up, but Maybourne's eyes widened and she watched him scan the note.

He was canny enough not to scan the room for her, but he did follow the note's instructions. After a moment, he shuffled the file he had open together, the note somewhere in the middle, then got up and went to that cabinet, squatting down as if looking in it for something. He rummaged for a moment, then stood up and put something in his pocket and walked out of the room. She stayed where she was, leaning against the wall. Maybourne was very quick. He left the door open.

He should be back shortly. In the meantime, Sam leaned against the wall, listening to the voices of people passing by, waiting.

Finally, Maybourne came in, barely catching himself from swinging the door shut. He looked around for her and she could see he'd followed her instructions to a tee. He was even at the right level.

He looked at her with wide eyes. "This takes some getting used to. I feel like I'm walking through a ghost town."

"It is rather like that," she said, nodding. "This is how they take the Daniels. I still haven't found a way to detect it, so it's rather useful."

"Especially for clandestine meetings," he observed. "Well, I believe we left off with a discussion of rumors."

"I believe we left off with me still not certain I should trust you."

He pursed his lips and leaned one hip against his desk. "How can I convince you?"

"Frankly, I don't know," she said, hitching herself up on the cabinet. "By the way, people can see it if we mess with ordinary objects, it takes about forty seconds for things to come into phase with us or go out of phase when we put them down."

"So don't pick anything up because it will be floating for forty seconds," Maybourne said. "Thanks for the warning – wait, does that mean that page was on top of my file for forty seconds before I could see it?"

She smiled at his discomfiture. "Yup," she said, and his eyes widened.

"Well, let's see if this will convince you," he said, standing up and going towards the other side of the desk. He looked at the rolling chair and then at the drawers. "This has its limitations, I see," he said. "I have something I'd like to show you, but I can't open the drawer."

"Tell me about it."

"You know that everyone in the SGC is given weekly shots of vitamins and other health enhancers?" She nodded. She'd had her shot earlier in the morning, as had the colonel. "And that every shot is tailored to the individual?"

"Of course. We all have different needs," she said.

He nodded grimly. "Yes, but hasn't it ever occurred to you how easily that situation could be abused, perverted?"

Her stomach gave an uneasy flip. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's ripe for abuse," Maybourne said. "For all I know, it was set up that way to start with. There are vitamins and good things in the shots, lieutenant. But there are also things meant to . . . enhance certain personality traits that the general wants to see enhanced."

"You're wrong!" she said loudly, shaking her head in horror. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You have to be." She could tell from his sympathetic smile that he knew that she already believed him, but couldn't accept or acknowledge that belief aloud.

"Some people, those who might be considered troublemakers from the general's viewpoint, are given minute doses of tranquilizers, things to make them more submissive. Not enough to be noticeable, never enough to show up on an outside examination, but enough to affect judgment to some degree. Those who the general feels are too sympathetic to . . . well, not to enemies, but to people who aren't useful, they're given things to make them more aggressive." Samantha shook her head, horrified, but she knew he wasn't lying. It matched too well with the sorts of things she'd seen Hammond do before. "You are getting tranquilizers."

She stared into the middle distance, trying to take that in. Tranquilizers. To impair her judgment and make her just that little bit less likely to fight an order she didn't agree with.

"I know for a fact that you are being given mild depressants to make you slightly more apathetic, less likely to make waves. Colonel O'Neill spent a brief time on depressants, but oddly enough they made him more likely to make waves. I could have told them it was foolish to make O'Neill depressed. He'd either get pissy or suicidal, neither of which would serve Hammond's ends."

"So, what is he getting now?"

"Drugs that heighten aggression," Maybourne said.

"How long?" she asked, aghast. "Was it before or after –"

"Well before Dr. Jackson's death," he said, anticipating her question.

"And Daniel?"

"Depressants. Hammond didn't like his tendency towards sympathy with outworlders. He wanted a man who was useful but less inclined to assert himself." Maybourne sighed and looked down at the desk. "We know for a fact exactly what he was being given, because we tested his blood after he died."

"How did you get it?"

Maybourne pursed his lips and looked her in the eye. "We took it from his corpse."

She stared at him in disbelief. "But the body was burned."

Maybourne shook his head. "That was the body of a homeless man who was found dead in a city park. When Dr. Jackson died, we substituted the body so that we could –"

"You what?" she demanded angrily. "What have you done with Daniel's body?"

"Preserved it," he said calmly. "We placed it in stasis."

Her jaw dropped. "You can do that?" she asked.

He nodded. "We had only just obtained the technology when Dr. Jackson died, and we only had the one stasis chamber. It was deemed more important to preserve him in a revivable state than to tear it apart for reverse engineering."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Revivable?" she squeaked.

"If we can obtain a sarcophagus."

"Are you serious? You actually have Daniel's body and are planning to revive him?"

"If we can find a sarcophagus. That has proven difficult."

"But . . ." She ran out of words briefly. "But why haven't you told anyone at the SGC? Do you know what this would mean for the colonel?"

"Reason it through, Carter," Maybourne said. "What would his return mean for General Hammond?" She shook her head, instinctively shying away from giving that too much thought. Then she sat up sharply. Was that the drugs making her draw back from confrontation . . . even when it was only internal? _Crap!_ Maybourne smiled. "Now that you know about it, you should have some success fighting it," he said. "Hammond never liked Jackson, and he seemed glad enough to have him gone until he realized how necessary he was for the war effort. But he's come to think of him as disposable. Replaceable. Interchangeable. I've wondered if he mightn't be looking for a Daniel Jackson who's of his mindset. In the meantime, one that doesn't set O'Neill off every time he turns around is a good second best."

"And he put a bomb in that Daniel's chest to control him better."

"Indeed," Maybourne said. "It's put us all in quite a pickle. We haven't been able to identify the remote. We got the fact of the operation from Warner, but he didn't know who built it. Since it obviously wasn't you, we don't know where to even look for the information."

She ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know. This is a lot to take in."

"I know, lieutenant."

"I know one thing . . . we have to get rid of Hammond."

"You came to that conclusion, too?" he said dryly.

She glared at him. "As a matter of fact, it's the conclusion Colonel O'Neill has come to," she said.

Maybourne blinked, and she was pleased to have surprised him with at least one piece of information. "O'Neill wants to get rid of Hammond?"

"He does," Samantha said.

"Well, that's a side effect of giving your people caveman drugs," Maybourne remarked. "What happens when they decide they don't like you?"

"So, do you have a plan or is all of this just informational?" she said.

"There's a lot that needs to be coordinated. I've been in contact with this Daniel's SGC, when I still wasn't sure you'd be willing to help."

"How?"

"We have the mirror. We managed to ram the requisition through finally, and Hammond didn't fight us. I think it's because he figures he can get it back at whim and he's satisfied with the Daniel you have right now. Poor man. Is he just weak or is he smarter than the others?"

"Smarter," she said. Then she thought for a moment. "Or something."

Maybourne raised his eyebrows. "You don't think he's weak?"

She shook her head definitively. "No. He's not weak. But I'm not sure what it is. It's like he recognized something that first night that told him how to act." She gave Maybourne a sour look. "A weak man couldn't have survived the last two weeks."

"It seems to me he's had a lot less to cope with than the others," Maybourne said. "I mean, no injuries to speak of, and –"

"He's walking a tightrope to keep the colonel balanced, and unbeknownst to him he's fighting drugs in addition to Jack's already iffy temper," she said harshly. "He's working sixteen hour days without much in the way of breaks, and he hasn't been out of that room in two weeks. To top that off, he was drugged, cut open and had a murder weapon placed inside his body to make it more convenient for his murderer to kill him when he's ready to." She raised an eyebrow. "Can you think of anything else offhand?"

"I wasn't suggesting he had it easy, lieutenant," Maybourne said defensively.

"Frankly, in a way, the other Daniels had it easier," she replied. "They knew what to expect from Colonel O'Neill. This Daniel has to keep the colonel on an even keel, on top of managing all his other problems, and he never knows what he's going to get when the colonel shows up. It all depends on too many factors. So far he's been pretty successful, but something's got to give."

"Well, my primary goal with this meeting was to make sure I had someone who could actually get inside Dr. Jackson's cell. Colonel O'Neill is not reliable, too focused on getting and keeping a Daniel." Samantha nodded. "Kowalski doesn't go in much anymore, but I think that's probably a good thing. The cocktail they're giving him is kind of scary. It dampens all his positive qualities and brings out the asshole that was lurking beneath the civilized surface."

"Son of a bitch! You mean that's why he's . . . I thought he was just suppressing things because it's too hard to cope with everything that's going on."

"Well, if he is, then he's got help."

"Damn it!" she snarled. "I'd like to stab Hammond myself!"

"You're cutting right through that tranquilizer, aren't you, Samantha?"

Resisting the urge to pin Maybourne to a wall for being a condescending twerp, she focused on the issue at hand. "It can't be just Hammond, though," she said. "He'd never get away with it long term."

"You're right at that," Maybourne said. "It goes all the way to the top."

She stood up, staring at him. "The joint chiefs?"

He shook his head. "Higher still, Samantha."

"President Kinsey?"

"I hope you didn't vote for him."

"Are you nuts?"

"Didn't think so," Maybourne said. "Look, I have to go. This was largely to see if you were going to help. Now that I know that you are, I –"

"I want to see Daniel," she said. The words were out before she even considered them or the feasibility.

"You don't honestly think we're keeping him anywhere near here?" he asked incredulously.

"I want to see Daniel," she repeated.

"He's dead," Maybourne replied. "There's nothing to see but a face through a view plate."

She bit her lip. "I still want to see him. I want to know that he's really there."

"It would be dangerous and potentially disastrous, lieutenant," he said. "You could lead Hammond right to us, and what do you think he'd do with Daniel in a box?"

"Hold it over Colonel O'Neill at the very least. He's already holding the current Daniel over the colonel's head."

"Is he?" Maybourne asked, looking intrigued. "And it's working?"

"That's part of why he wants to get rid of Hammond." She bit her lip. "I really want to see Daniel. I don't think you understand what it means to me."

"It's not possible," he said firmly. "And I really don't know what it would prove. For all you know we have a clone, or a really lifelike dummy in a silver box."

"I can't stand the thought that he's out there, dead, but revivable, and nothing's being done to fix him."

"Hammond has to be gone before I'd ever consent to bringing him back," Maybourne said. "And since I make that decision, you can be assured it won't happen until then."

"So you're essentially holding him hostage?" she accused.

He threw up his hands. "If you want to look at it that way, be my guest. I just don't want him to wind up getting killed. Again."

"No." She shook her head. "I can see that." Fury surged and she slammed her fist into a wall. "God, I hate this!"

"I know," he said. "I'm not thrilled with it either."

"How long have you known?" she asked, turning around. "How long have you known about the drugs and all of this?"

He blinked. "Eight months."

She walked towards him, rage filling her to the fingertips. "You've known for eight months and you haven't told anyone? Or done anything to stop it?"

"What could I do?" he demanded, taking a step back as she approached.

"I don't know!" she growled at him, continuing to move towards him. "I don't know what your resources are, what your channels are. I don't know what you could have done, but you damned well could have done something!"

"Not without making things worse."

"When I think of all the Daniels, when I think of what they've suffered and are probably still suffering because they aren't back in their own realities yet, and I know that you've had proof –"

"Proof is altogether different from knowing, lieutenant," Maybourne said. "We could prove that Dr. Jackson was being drugged, but we couldn't prove he was getting it here. We haven't had real proof until the last four weeks, and that's only because Warner finally cracked."

"I knew he'd resigned," Samantha said, puzzled. "What do you mean, cracked?"

"He has withdrawn his resignation, at my request," Maybourne said, and Samantha stared at him in surprise. "He gave us samples of several vials and wangled access to the computer logs of who gets exactly what chemicals. We have proof because he downloaded it to CD-Rom and gave it to us."

"My God. Here I've been cursing the man for putting that bomb into Daniel's chest."

"He still did that, lieutenant. He could have refused, made Hammond find a different doctor to do it. He's not altogether without blame."

"What are they putting in his shot?" she asked, tilting her head.

"I didn't look at his name," Maybourne said frankly. "I was looking at SG-1 primarily."

"Well, if I don't go back soon, I'll be missed," she said. "You'd better go back to whichever bathroom you went into, go in the same stall and go back into phase. If either Colonel O'Neill or Major Kowalski is there, though, wait. They're more likely than anyone else to notice something odd."

"Very well. I'll contact you with the time of our next meeting, shall I?"

"Sure, but don't get too impatient if I'm not on time. Unlike you, people around here actually want to talk to me. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Charming as ever, Lt. Carter," he said, nodding as she left.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Tuesday, April 20_  
Reality A001**

Daniel worked his way through the day. Jack brought him lunch, but he paid little attention to the colonel. It was finger food, but a little greasy. Jack hadn't thought to bring many napkins, so Daniel got a hand towel from the bathroom and kept working while he ate.

The translation was moving more quickly now. He'd made a breakthrough in his understanding of this particular Celtic language. With different influences and environments, it had evolved somewhat differently than Gaelic or Welsh, so it had been a little hard to decipher at first. Now, though, he had a better handle on it and was making good progress.

He'd have the entire monument translated by midday the next day. He didn't think about what he'd be doing after that. He was certain they'd have something in mind, but he had no idea what. He was just rounding the corner onto the fourth side of the monument when the door opened behind him. He looked up at the clock and then over his shoulder. It was only four-thirty. Not nearly time for dinner.

Jack walked in with a folder full of papers. "Hey, Daniel, we've got something really urgent for you to translate."

"Urgent?" Daniel asked, reaching out. "What is it?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know. I get handed these things and told to bring them to you. I can't read it, you know."

"Right," Daniel said. He put the file down and started gathering up the monument. "It's a shame. This was really going well."

"You can get back to it when you've got this knocked out," Jack said. He reached into the capacious pocket of his fatigues. "I also brought you something." He put a white paper bag down in the middle of Daniel's empty lunch plate.

"Chocolate walnut cookies," Daniel said, picking up the bag. "Thanks."

"Bet you didn't think I'd remember your favorite."

"No, I didn't," Daniel said slowly, looking up at him uneasily.

"Well, enjoy, and Hammond wants that as soon as possible."

Daniel nodded and Jack ruffled his hair and left. It was weird. His own Jack was never this physically demonstrative, unless some serious problem had just occurred, like one of them being implanted with a Goa'uld, or one of them being left for dead. He didn't mind, exactly, but it felt really creepy, in no small part _because_ it bothered him so little. After all, this wasn't his Jack. Shouldn't he be more freaked out by it?

He started flipping through the file. It was in one of the more obscure dialects of Goa'uld, but not a particularly difficult one. It appeared to be some kind of an intelligence report. He got up and walked over to the bookcase, pulling off a couple of journals that looked vaguely but incompletely familiar. Again, it was creepy seeing that handwriting . . . and then with a shiver, he realized that this was the dead man's writing.

They did contain the Goa'uld references he was looking for, though, so he suppressed his emotional reaction and started working.

After a page or so, though, he stopped and started just reading through the papers. This wasn't ordinary intelligence about some Goa'uld stronghold. This was a description of a Jaffa township, one without a permanent occupation by a Goa'uld. That was clear from the notes. In fact, it was very clear that no Goa'uld was expected any time soon.

What was urgent about this? Did they know what they had? At the back of the file he found a sheet written in perfectly plain English.

This was found in the hands of one of the Jaffa who are loyal to Sokar when he was captured by SG-11. The settlement it describes is on a planet that could be of extreme strategic importance, particularly if we managed to take them before the Goa'uld who rules them returns. If we can take that Goa'uld by surprise . . .

Daniel shook his head. Take them? This was a perfectly ordinary group of Jaffa, innocent bystanders, blameless dupes of the Goa'uld to whom they were enslaved. There were no soldier Jaffa there, just children, women and older men who had retired from active service. There were schools and herbalists, cobblers . . . It wasn't a military target.

But because they were Jaffa, the writer of this little analysis had decided that they were valid targets for no other reason than that they were Jaffa. He read on, horrified. It was clear that they knew the gist of the information in the documents, but not the details. That's what he was for. He was to provide them with the details they needed to make taking this settlement by military force easy.

The door opened again and Jack came in with a tray of food. "Hope macaroni and cheese isn't too splattery for you," he said jovially.

Daniel looked up. "Jack, do you really not know what this is about?" he asked, gesturing at the papers.

"No. I can't read that stuff, Daniel. You know that."

"There's a page at the back that's in English," Daniel said. "Last I checked you could read that."

Jack tilted his head. "I didn't look inside the file, Danny. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Yes, there's something wrong," Daniel said, standing up and pacing away, unable to keep still at this point. "That's intelligence on a Jaffa town. Military intelligence, and the purpose is clearly stated on that back page."

"I don't understand, Daniel. Military intelligence is what we do."

"Jack, they plan to attack a town full of civilians. Innocents. People who aren't a threat and may never be. Women. Children. Old men."

"Daniel, there must be a good reason," Jack said placatingly.

"Babies, Jack!" Daniel growled. "There is _never_ a good reason to kill babies."

Jack blinked. "Daniel, it's not your problem. You don't know for sure how that intelligence is going to be used."

"Are you telling me that Hammond wouldn't order an attack on a town full of ordinary civilian Jaffa?"

There was a very uncomfortable silence, then Jack shoved the desk chair into the knee hole and walked towards him. "That's not the point, Daniel," he said. "The point is that Hammond has ordered you to translate these documents and you have to do that."

"I won't," Daniel said. Both his voice and decision were firm, but he was feeling decidedly leery of the way Jack was approaching him. He shook his head. "Your non-answer is answer enough. I will not be party to the murder of children, Jack. I won't."

Suddenly, Jack grabbed his arm and dragged him back over to the desk. "You have to, Daniel. Hammond gives the orders around here."

"Hammond can give as many orders as he wants," Daniel replied, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. "I won't do this."

"Daniel!" Jack yanked out the chair and slammed Daniel down into it abruptly. His knees hit the bottom of the desk and his whole body felt compressed by the force the colonel had used. Leaning over his shoulder and speaking quietly into his ear, Jack said, "Do the God damned work, Danny."

Daniel was shaking like a leaf, but he shook his head. "I won't, Jack. I can't. I can't be –"

Jack spun the chair around and leaned over Daniel so that their faces were very close together. "Daniel, you've got to do it. You don't understand. Hammond is perfectly willing to kill you."

Daniel crossed his arms, his hands clenched into fists. "I know."

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Jack yanked him to his feet. "That isn't acceptable, Danny."

His heart was pounding in his chest, and Daniel found himself hoping that the bomb wasn't overly sensitive to vibration. He took a deep breath and licked his lips. "Jack, I can't. It's –"

Jack shoved him up against the wall next to the desk. Daniel's head smacked painfully against the cement, and his arms splayed out automatically to help him catch his balance. Jack was glaring at him, eyes wide with fury and something else. Worry? "This isn't an option, Daniel. You have to translate this. Hammond's expecting it in an hour."

Daniel was shuddering with reaction. This was the first time Jack had gotten this violent with him since the first day he'd been here, and he really didn't like it. "It's not going to happen, Jack," he said as calmly as he could.

"Damn it, Daniel!" he yelled, pulling him forward and then slamming him into the wall again. "I'm telling you to do this, so you're damned well going to do it." With that, he pushed Daniel towards the chair again, but Daniel kicked the chair aside and wrenched out of Jack's grasp.

"Jack, stop it," he said, backing away. "You'd do better to try and convince them that it's pointless. I won't do it."

Daniel had always known that Jack had special forces training. That he was a fast, mean son of a bitch when it was necessary. But his own Jack had never displayed that ability to Daniel quite so directly. Suddenly Jack's hand was in his hair, one of his arms was bent up behind his back and he was being forced back to the chair. "You will sit down and you will translate this document. That's your job."

Keeping the grunts and yelps of pain behind his teeth occupied all of Daniel's will until Jack finally sat him back in the chair again, putting his hands on Daniel's shoulders to hold him down. Tears of pain and anger had sprung to his eyes, and despite his best efforts, they began to roll down his cheeks. He kept his arms at his sides and stared straight ahead.

Jack's hands were tight on his shoulders. "You always do this, you jackass!" The colonel shook him and Daniel's head swung forward and back. The headache that had started when his head hit the wall grew exponentially. Daniel's fists were clenched but there was nothing he could do. Hitting Jack wouldn't stop this, it would probably just escalate things. "Damned bleeding heart liberal! They're Jaffa! They would kill us if they could!"

"They're dupes! They're indoctrinated! And the babies couldn't kill us if they wanted to." He slammed his fists down on the table and tried to get up. Jack held him down. "Babies, Jack!" he yelled. "Infants in their mother's arms. Whatever you may think is right, I know it's wrong and I won't help."

"You aren't the one who makes those kinds of decisions, Daniel," Jack growled.

Daniel shook his head. "This is the kind of decision only I can make," he said. "How far I'm willing to go. I won't compromise my ethics."

"Damn your ethics!" Jack shouted, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. He stopped, staring at Daniel's face. Then he let go of Daniel's hair and turned the chair, squatting in front of him. His hands were resting on the arms of the chair and he looked earnestly into Daniel's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Please reconsider."

Daniel rubbed at his eyes, which had not stopped their infernal leaking. "I can't. It's wrong, and I won't be a part of it."

Jack took hold of his wrist and pulled his hand away from his eyes. His expression was pleading, and when he spoke his voice was thick with emotion. "Please. I don't want you to die again! Please!"

Daniel shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jack. I can't."

The colonel stood up and backed away. "I'll be back shortly. Stay here."

Daniel blinked at him as he left the room. When the door was shut, he shook his head. "Where would I go?"

* * *

Samantha put the finishing touches on her preliminary report regarding the scientific discoveries on P3N-R43 and saved the file. She was still having trouble taking in the information Maybourne had given her. Daniel . . . their Daniel . . . was revivable if a sarcophagus could be found. She was being given drugs to make her docile. Colonel O'Neill was being given drugs to make him more aggressive.

The door to her lab slammed open and the colonel came in looking a little wild eyed. He grabbed her arm. "Carter, you've got to come talk to him."

"Who, sir?" she asked as he dragged her out of the room.

"Daniel," he replied. "The fool of a man is refusing to translate something on moral grounds."

She opened her mouth but there was nothing to say. She'd never yet met a Daniel who wasn't as stubborn as a mule. Realizing that she looked rather as if she were trying to catch flies, she closed her mouth again and wondered what the colonel expected her to do.

When they got to Daniel's room, the guards let them inside and she saw that Daniel was huddled on the bed, on his side, looking utterly miserable. Pulling away from the colonel, she rushed to the bedside. "Are you hurt?" she asked, throwing an involuntary glance back towards her superior officer.

"I didn't hurt him," O'Neill exclaimed. "Did I, Daniel?" He sounded . . . sincere, which surprised her.

She turned back to Daniel, who shook his head. "Nothing worth speaking of."

"See?" Jack said as if that proved his point. That particular phrase was something she'd heard from her own Daniel more times than she could count, but the way this Daniel said it, the look in his eyes, told her that while he might not have broken bones or internal bleeding, he was definitely hurt and more than a little freaked out.

"There's nothing either of you can say to make me change my mind," Daniel said, sitting up. He'd pulled his glasses off. Now he polished them on the hem of his t-shirt and put them back on. "I won't help you folks wipe out a town full of civilians."

"Do what?" she asked, looking up at O'Neill.

"It's an emergency translation Hammond sent down. I didn't know what it was about, but Daniel seems convinced that it's some kind of immoral attack."

"Babies," Daniel said harshly, and she saw the colonel wince. It sounded like a refrain, somehow, and she wondered just how long they'd argued. How battered was Daniel? "There is no other reason for that particular item to be urgent, Jack," Daniel continued. "And the note at the end of the file makes it more than clear what the plan for using the intelligence is."

Samantha closed her eyes. What was Hammond playing at? No Daniel they'd met would go along with something like that. She sighed and looked back towards the desk and saw a tray with congealed macaroni and cheese. "You didn't eat your dinner," she said automatically.

"I'm really not hungry," Daniel said. "And what's the point, anyway? If Hammond kills me it would just be a waste of perfectly good food."

"Do you want to die?" Colonel O'Neill demanded angrily.

"No!" The word reverberated in the room for a moment, then Daniel slumped. "I want to go home."

The colonel squatted beside her. "Well . . . maybe if you do this translation, Hammond will let you go back to your apartment," he said cajolingly. Samantha's eyes widened. Daniel's apartment? Presumably this Daniel's apartment was in the other reality. She didn't know quite what to think of this clear descent into fantasy.

Daniel made an odd sort of whimper and started rubbing his eyes. "Go away, Jack," he said sounding overwhelmed. "I don't want to fight anymore, and I'm not doing the translation so there's no point." He turned his back on them and thumped down on the bed.

"Daniel?" she said softly.

"What?" he asked.

She realized that she didn't have anything to say. "I . . . I don't know."

He turned and gave her an oddly sympathetic smile. "Good night, Samantha," he said. "The lights will dim soon, so you guys had better leave."

"Daniel!" the colonel exclaimed, standing up.

Daniel rolled and looked up at him. "Good night, Jack. I'd like to get some sleep, okay? Take the food with you, please."

"You can't –"

"Sir?" Samantha said, taking the colonel's arm. "I think we'd better go."

He nodded, but shook her off. "Get the tray," he said. She turned to the desk, keeping an eye on them, and the colonel squatted again by the bed. She couldn't hear what they said, but she saw O'Neill ruffle Daniel's hair. Then he hustled her out and left her at a fast pace. She had a feeling he was going to see Hammond, and she didn't know what to expect from that visit. She was terribly afraid, however, that she'd just seen the last of that Daniel.

* * *

_**Wednesday, April 21** _

Daniel was mildly surprised when he woke up. He hadn't actually expected to fall asleep. He sat up and blinked, stretching tentatively. There were definitely going to be some bruises from his little confrontation with Jack last night.

He got up and went to the bathroom and showered. He wondered if Hammond was really going to kill him. It seemed an odd thing to wonder. He heard the door to the room open while he was drying off and got dressed very quickly. Steeling himself, he went out into the main room.

Hammond had two guards with him this time, Berman and Major Coburn. At least, he looked like Major Coburn. Daniel stopped just inside the room, apprehensive.

"Good morning, Dr. Jackson," General Hammond said genially. "Coburn, bring the good doctor over here."

Daniel managed, just barely, not to flinch when Coburn grabbed him. The major pulled him roughly over to the guest chair and sat him down. The silence lengthened, and Daniel nodded to the general, guessing that some kind of greeting was expected. Coburn smacked him on the back of the head. Daniel looked up and the man raised an eyebrow. "Good morning, general," Daniel said after a moment.

"Much better," Hammond said. "Now, I understand you're refusing an assignment."

_Did Jack tell him?_ Daniel wondered. Then he shook himself internally. First of all, that wasn't his Jack so it didn't matter. Second, there were surveillance tapes . . . videos of him getting roughed up by that Jack. Hammond knew, that was all that counted. "Yes, sir, I am," Daniel said. He kept his voice absolutely level.

"You do understand that there will be consequences for your refusal?" Hammond asked.

Daniel nodded. "I do. It doesn't matter."

Hammond raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "I see," he said. "Well, I'm going to give you a simple choice. You translate this text . . ." He nodded at the papers on Daniel's desk. "Or Major Coburn will break your arm. Your choice."

Daniel stared into the cold eyes of the general. "Left or right?" he asked.

"Left," the general said. "You will, of course, be expected to continue working."

He took a deep breath, looked up at the man who towered over him, and held out his left arm wordlessly.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Wednesday, April 21_  
Reality A001**

Samantha picked up Daniel's breakfast tray and headed towards his room. She would have heard if he'd been killed, surely. It was a little early for his breakfast, but she couldn't wait any longer. The guard nodded to her, looking vaguely perturbed, then opened the door.

She walked in and saw Daniel lying in bed, fully clothed. "Are you okay?" she asked, rushing across. "Are you hurt?"

His face was a mask of pain and his left arm rested by his side. His right hand was tapping intermittently on the mattress. He didn't speak for a moment. Then he said, "I've been given some time off from work."

"Why?" she asked.

"Hammond . . ." He paused, his face working oddly. "Hammond didn't appreciate my moral concerns regarding that translation," he said finally. "I'm supposed to be thinking about the consequences."

"Which are?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, are you going to do it?"

He shook his head and then winced, stilling his body completely. "No," he said after another pause. "I've chosen the consequences."

"What consequences?" she asked.

He shifted slightly and grunted. His face twisted with agony. "He broke my arm," he grated through clenched teeth.

"But –" She looked him over in shock. "Where's the cast?"

His eyes flicked to hers and he grinned tightly with a flash of black humor. "That's the part I'm supposed to be thinking about," he said.

"God!" She put the tray down. "I'll get you some ice."

As she started to get up, he reached out with his right hand and caught her arm. She wasn't expecting it, so her continued movement shifted him slightly. He hissed and his hand clutched at her arm painfully. She dropped back to her knees and waited for him to recover enough to speak. "I don't think Hammond would approve," he said finally. "I think I'm supposed to be in pain."

"Well, if that's the case, he needs to give some kind of specific order," she said, pressing his hand back to the bed. "I'll be back soon."

She left, and as she headed towards the infirmary, she came face to face with Colonel O'Neill. His eyes widened when he saw her expression and he turned to follow her back into the elevator. He turned an intimidating look on the people who started to get on with them, so they wound up with a car to themselves. "What is it, Carter?" he asked. "Have you seen Daniel?"

"Yes sir," she said shortly. Even knowing about the drugs, it was hard not to put all the blame for this situation squarely on the colonel's shoulders.

"How is he?"

"His left arm is broken," she said. Her voice trembled with the anger she felt. The doors opened and she started forward immediately.

"Broken?" O'Neill exclaimed. "Where are you going?"

"The infirmary," she said and put on a burst of speed, not looking back to see if he was following her. Disregarding the infirmary staff, she made straight for the ice packs and got a couple out. Without speaking, she headed back to the elevator to find that the colonel was holding it for her. He let the doors go and stepped back as soon as she was in.

"What have you got there?" he asked.

"Ice packs."

"Did Warner send you?"

She felt her lips stretch in a sour grimace. "The doctor isn't there, sir. The general hasn't called him as far as I know. Daniel's just lying on his bed in pain." The elevator doors opened and she didn't wait for the colonel, she just headed out. The guard opened the door and she walked in quickly. Daniel looked up, eyes wide with alarm until he saw her. Then his expression relaxed . . . momentarily. She watched his face stiffen with apprehension when he saw the colonel.

She dropped to her knees and only then realized that she didn't have any way to get his sleeve off him that wouldn't hurt him.

"What happened?" the colonel asked.

"Hammond didn't kill me," Daniel said.

"Could you for once in your life not be a smart ass?" O'Neill demanded loudly.

Daniel jumped when the colonel yelled and his face went white as he jostled his arm. He swallowed the pain visibly and gave the colonel a snarky smile. "I don't think so."

O'Neill let out an exasperated snort, then said, "What are you doing, Carter? The floor doesn't need to be iced."

"I'm trying to figure out how to get his arm out of his sleeve."

Unbelievably, Daniel started to sit up. "I can –"he started, but broke off sharply. His face went the color of buttermilk. She stuck her arm under his back to help him lower himself slowly. She could hear the colonel rummaging behind her.

"This is an office! Why aren't there any scissors?"

She waited to answer until she'd slid her arm out from under Daniel's shoulders. "They didn't want him to have anything sharp," she said.

Daniel grimaced. "Which is particularly stupid since I could kill you with a pencil if I were so inclined."

She grinned down at him. Colonel O'Neill came up behind her. "Glad you know how to do that," he said to Daniel.

The archeologist narrowed his eyes, looking up at the colonel. She could practically see the common sense vanishing from his expression. "Jack taught me," he said.

"I did?" O'Neill asked.

Daniel glared. "No, not you. My –"

Colonel O'Neill broke in before Daniel could say the delusion-breaking words. "Carter, get out of my way. We need to get those cold packs on him. He's obviously getting hysterical."

Sense seemed to have returned to Daniel's brain. "Ya think!" he said.

The colonel firmly pushed her away and took her place. "Okay, let's get rid of that sleeve," he said, snicking a folding knife open. Daniel made a little whimpering sound, eyes fixed to the matte black blade. "I'm not going to hurt you, Danny," the colonel said. She watched as he carefully sliced through the fabric of Daniel's sleeve, baring the black and blue mess that was his arm.

It was clear that someone had struck him hard midway down his forearm. One sharp blow to snap the bones. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the injury. It was so clearly deliberately inflicted.

"Fuck." The colonel's voice was flat, and she winced at the contained fury she heard in it. O'Neill bent and picked up the ice packs, gently placing them across the injury. Daniel hissed and closed his eyes. The colonel looked up at her and she could see how intensely angry he was.

Eyes still closed, Daniel didn't see the look. "Pretty, is it?" he asked.

She stroked his long hair out of his eyes. "Not very colorful yet," she said.

"Ah." Daniel's eyes slitted open and he smiled at her.

"Who did this?" O'Neill demanded in venomous tones.

Daniel's eyes opened fully and he looked at the colonel sideways. "What difference does that make?" he asked.

O'Neill glared at the injured man, recognizing the diversion as a refusal to answer. "I can find out for myself, you know."

Daniel's lips twitched. "I guess you'll have to do that, then," he said, then closed his eyes again.

"Damn it, Daniel!"

She put a hand on the colonel's shoulder to remind him that Daniel was injured and that she was present. He subsided slightly, looking very tightly controlled.

The blue eyes cracked open again and Daniel looked up at the colonel, humor in his pained expression. "Sorry, Jack," he said. His eyes closed again. "Thank you, both of you. This helps."

"No problem, Daniel," Samantha said. "Colonel, I can stay with him for awhile."

"I'll take you up on that, Carter," he said. Daniel's eyes opened and he looked up at them dubiously. "But first go fetch him a fresh breakfast. I'll wait with him till you get back."

"Yes sir." She picked up the tray.

"I don't need one of you to watch me," Daniel said.

"Of course not," the colonel said sarcastically. "Run along, Carter."

Giving Daniel a wink behind O'Neill's back, Samantha went out. She only realized as she reached the kitchen how incredibly natural that last interchange had felt. It lent her clearer insight into why the colonel was allowing wishful thinking to lead him into delusion.

* * *

"Jack, I'm just going to lie here all day," Daniel said, glaring up at the Jack O'Neill who was hovering over him. Perhaps hovering was a trait common to all Jack O'Neills. "I don't need a babysitter."

Jack shook his head. "So, I don't suppose you have to use the restroom or anything?"

Daniel blinked up at him and then let loose a stream of multi-lingual invective. "I _didn't_ have to," he growled.

"Well, you would have had to eventually, and you don't want to have to ask Carter for help with that, do you?"

Daniel grimaced. "No, I guess not. But I don't need help. I think I can pee on my own."

"Ah, yes, but can you get across the room to the bathroom on your own?"

He rolled his eyes. "I made it over here from the chair on my own," he said.

There was silence and he looked curiously up at Jack. The other man's face was dark with fury and Daniel quailed back slightly. "What do you mean?" Jack asked in a quiet, dangerous voice.

Uncertain what was making the unpredictable man so angry, Daniel tried to explain. "I didn't want to sit on the chair all day, and having my arm hang like that was agonizing, so –"

Jack interrupted him. "What chair? What happened?"

"I really have to go to the bathroom," Daniel said, hoping that would distract him.

The fury was replaced by concern so rapidly that it was disorienting. With extreme care, Jack folded Daniel's left arm across his chest. Daniel hissed and grit his teeth, but Jack was causing him as little pain as was possible. Daniel brought his right arm up to cradle the left as Jack slid his arm beneath Daniel's shoulders and helped him sit up.

God, it hurt. Moving even slightly hurt. He couldn't help groaning at the agony that surged through him from the break in the bones of his forearm. Jack grimaced. "Maybe I should get you a bedpan," he said.

"Don't even think about it!" Daniel said through gritted teeth. "I can do it, by myself if I have to."

"Fine. Just . . . lay back a minute."

"Jack!" Daniel protested as the other man pushed him, gently, back down to the bed. He stood up and went across to Daniel's desk and then disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments. When he came back, he pulled the chair over to the bed again. He put down a pair of rulers from the desk and then pulled his knife out and he started shredding one of the black t-shirts from the cupboard in the bathroom. "What are you doing?" Daniel asked, puzzled.

"Making you a splint."

"Jack, no!" Daniel said, trying to struggle upright again. He blanched at the pain, but managed it anyway. "Jack, Hammond doesn't want it splinted."

"Fuck Hammond."

"He'll blame me, Jack."

The colonel faltered in his preparations briefly, but then he shook his head. "I'll manage Hammond, Danny. Don't worry."

Daniel turned on the bed, gritting his teeth against the sensations from the broken arm. He got his feet on the floor and started to try to get up, but Jack shifted sideways slightly, and he had to sit back down, wincing. "Let me get past," he said.

"You need the splint," Jack replied.

"Jack, please. Hammond said I needed time to think about the consequences. He specifically left me with the arm unsplinted. He doesn't –"

"Was I unclear?" Jack demanded. "Fuck Hammond! And the horse he rode in on."

"Jack . . ." Daniel moaned, knowing that he was right, that Hammond would be furious, and that he probably wouldn't take it out on the colonel.

Jack's teeth were grinding as he finished turning the body of the t-shirt into a long strip of stretchy fabric. The anger that simmered beneath the surface did not, however, translate to his hands as he reached out and positioned Daniel's arm between the rulers. Gentle though he was, Daniel was sweating and clenching his right fist before he was done. Still, the support was very helpful. Samantha came in partway through the process and put her tray down on the desk. She watched the proceedings in silence, her eyes full of worry.

Jack positioned Daniel's arm diagonally on his chest, hand resting on the front of his shoulder. "Hold that there with your other hand, okay? No, not like that." He took Daniel's right hand, which he'd been moving towards his left hand and positioned it to cup his left elbow. "Support under your elbow." When he was satisfied, Jack got up and went into the bathroom.

Daniel looked over at Samantha. "He insisted."

"Good," she said. "I can't believe General Hammond hasn't given you any medical attention."

He shrugged and let out a muffled yelp. Jack emerged from the bathroom with remarkable speed. He had another t-shirt in his hands and was clearly mutilating it as well. "You okay?" he demanded.

"I shrugged," Daniel said. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Nitwit!" he said with exasperation, but his eyes grew soft and he smoothed Daniel's hair tenderly. "Be more careful," he added and went back into the bathroom.

Daniel watched him go with a sense of unreality. "Your Jack isn't like that, is he?" Samantha asked in a quiet voice.

He shook his head. "Not so much physical anything," he said. "Maybe the one goes with the other."

Jack came out again with the mangled t-shirt and a hand towel. Using the two items in concert, he created a padded sling that supported Daniel's arm in the position it was already in, cradling all the weight of the arm on his elbow.

There was still pain, but Daniel felt much more secure. He stood up with a bit of help from Jack and went to the bathroom. When he came out, Jack and Samantha were talking quietly. "Can you manage breakfast on your own, Danny?" Jack asked.

"I said I'd be fine," Daniel said. "This is helping enormously."

"I'll be back soon," Samantha said.

"I'm fine, Sam," he said. Then he blinked and shivered. "I mean Samantha." He sat down, staring at the food. The slip felt very disturbing, like he was forgetting where he was and what the circumstances were. She rested her hands on his shoulders for a moment. "It's all right," she said, and he knew she wasn't referring to his inadvertent use of her nickname. They left him alone, then and he made short work of the food in front of him.

When the food was gone he shifted the tray as well as he could. With his arm splinted and out of the way, he might as well try to get some work done. Maybe that would make Hammond less angry about the splint.

He got the next section of the monument out and set to work.

* * *

Samantha led the way back to her office and the colonel waited with ill-concealed impatience while she called up the morning's security video. She didn't particularly want to watch this, but the colonel had insisted. Since he'd have to go through reams of red tape to get direct access, this was the only way he could get it without Hammond knowing immediately that he was looking.

She keyed up the video for six-thirty a.m., then fast forwarded until she saw Daniel stirring. They saw him going into the bathroom, then the door opened about twenty minutes later admitting Lt. Berman, General Hammond and Major Coburn.

The scene didn't play out quite as she'd expected. From what little Daniel had said, she'd been anticipating some kind of a straightforward administration of punishment for the misdeed of failing to follow instructions, not the choice Hammond gave him. Since he wasn't sitting in the desk chair, she could see Daniel's face, and he looked utterly blank when he held out his arm to Major Coburn. The colonel sent up a steady stream of curses as background to the events playing out on the screen. She winced when the blow fell and the colonel went ominously silent.

In the quiet, they could clearly hear Hammond speaking. "I think you need some time to consider the full reality of your situation, Dr. Jackson, and the consequences you've invited upon yourself. I won't expect any work from you today, though if you can manage it, I won't object." He rose and left the room, his escort going with him, leaving Daniel sitting in the chair, eyes squeezed shut with the pain of his injury. Hurting for him, she watched him get himself over to the bed, cradling the broken arm against his chest. His face was sheened with sweat when he finally got himself into the position she'd found him in. That was at roughly seven-fifteen.

"Stupid, stubborn son of a bitch!" O'Neill ground out. "Doesn't lack in courage, but he makes up for it with a complete absence of common sense!"

"Sir, he shouldn't have to compromise his principles," she said.

The colonel turned furious eyes on her. "Should isn't very relevant around here right now, is it, lieutenant?"

"No sir," she said, taken aback. "No, I guess not."

"There are some people who need to work on their hand to hand combat skills," he said, and stormed out of the lab. She wondered vaguely if Major Coburn was on that list.

Gathering up some reading material, she returned to Daniel's room. He was still sitting at his desk, now translating the monument he'd been working for nearly a week now. She stopped in the doorway, astounded, until the guard cleared his throat and she realized she had to go inside before he could shut the door.

"Something wrong, Samantha?"

"N . . no," she said, walking over to the guest chair. She paused for about ten seconds, looking down at it, then she shook her head and sat down. "You should probably get some rest."

"What point is there in that?" he asked. "I'll be in almost as much pain if I lie down again, and I won't have anything to think about except where I am and what's going on. At least this way I'm getting something out of it."

"Getting something out of it?" she repeated, puzzled.

"This is a fascinating development from the Celtic root language, and gives me a whole new grasp of the shape of that particular tongue. See, we can only really get a general idea of how one of those truly ancient, unwritten languages worked, and that only from the languages that developed from the root. This is another offshoot, so it gives me further insight into the source language."

She nodded slowly. "Like being able to deduce the cause of an event in space by calculating the trajectories of the objects affected by it," she reasoned.

He nodded, eyes alight. "Of course, that may be a little premature . . . I don't know for certain if Gaelic and Welsh and Manx follow the same patterns here as they do . . . elsewhere. Can you grab a couple of books for me off the shelf?"

"Sure," she said. She got up and pulled down the books he asked for and watched him return to work. Daniel Jacksons seemed to be the same the . . . the same across realities. The only times the other Daniels they'd had would relax was while they were working. Her own Daniel would have worked through broken bones and punctured organs if they'd let him.

She wondered why this Daniel's Jack didn't offer him the same level of affection theirs did. She couldn't believe that the violence was a necessary trade off. Maybe he was just less sensitive.


	14. Chapter 14

**_Wednesday, April 21  
_ Reality ** **L583**

"Unscheduled offworld activation."

Jack was just coming out of Carter's lab when he heard the announcement. He hurried to the control room and joined Hammond behind the consoles watching the gate whoosh on.

Sgt. Harriman shook his head. "No sir, there's no signal," he said, apparently in response to a question Jack hadn't heard.

"Damn. Close the iris."

The metal barrier sealed itself across the opening, and Jack glanced over to see Hammond gazing unhappily at the stargate. "What is it, sir?"

"SG-13 is six hours late for contact. There have been several offworld activations, but there haven't been any signals. We've tried calling them several times, but we haven't had any luck so far. We can't even contact the MALP."

Jack looked at the gate. Ordinarily he wouldn't have had to be told that information by this point. Ordinarily, he'd have known about it for hours. He was ears deep in his worry about Daniel, but that was no excuse for neglecting his duties. "Where were they?"

Hammond opened his mouth to respond, but Harriman spoke suddenly. "I'm getting a signal, sir, it's SG-13."

"Open the iris," Hammond ordered immediately. The metal panels spiraled out, and Jack heard Harriman give the all clear to the team on the other side. People started coming through and Hammond immediately turned to go down to the gate room. Jack followed close behind.

Dave Dixon, whose rank of Lt. Colonel was so new it still squeaked when he turned around quickly, stumbled through the gate with his archeologist hanging off his shoulder. Cameron Balinsky had blood all down his right leg from a wound that seemed, from the torn fabric, to be on his hip, but he was managing to support himself with Dixon's help. The other two team members were already at the base of the ramp, being tended by Fraiser and her team. Burns and broken bones, it looked like. Both Dixon and Balinsky looked slightly scorched as well, and Balinsky had a head injury. A couple of medics came and collected the archeologist and Dixon presented himself in front of the general.

"What happened, Dixon?" Hammond asked.

"A volcanic eruption about three miles out from the gate, sir."

"Good lord!" Hammond exclaimed. "Did it cut you off, or what? What took you so long?"

"We dialed home seven or eight times, but we never got the confirmation of our code. Balinsky was unconscious, and we couldn't figure out what was wrong. Timmons finally figured out that our radio signals were being blocked by electromagnetic interference from the volcano. When Balinsky came to, he suggested we go through to P3X-797."

"The Land of Light," Hammond said and Dixon nodded.

"We did, and I guess the GDO worked from there."

"Good," Hammond said. "Well, you'd better get yourself and your team to the infirmary pronto."

"Thank you, sir."

"We'll debrief when you're ready."

Dixon nodded and trailed after his team, going straight to the gurney where Balinsky had been placed. The way the archeologist looked up and teased his commanding officer brought a lump to Jack's throat. Dixon began to harry the medics and Jack had to turn away and go back upstairs to the control room.

Hammond came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "My office, colonel." Jack followed Hammond into his office and took a seat when directed to. "Jack, are you all right?"

Jack looked up and shook his head. "No, I don't think so, sir. There's a version of me out there torturing our Daniel, and we're no closer than we were a week ago to finding him."

"What about Captain Carter's experiments?"

"I found her crying in her lab earlier today and sent her to Fraiser. I haven't heard back from the good doctor, but I think we can safely say that she hasn't found anything."

Hammond sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I suppose you're right. How's the foreign Dr. Jackson holding up?"

"He's holding up," Jack said. "He's translating like a demon. I guess it keeps his mind off things."

"Like a pair of two-year-olds," Hammond muttered. "Now we're left with hoping that Maybourne shows up tomorrow."

"And the last person I want to count on is Maybourne, no matter whose he is."

"One can at least hope that he's as much unlike our Harry Maybourne as you are unlike their Jack O'Neill."

"Indeed."

* * *

**Reality A001**

Samantha left to get Daniel's lunch, but on the way there she found her way obstructed by Lt. Colonel Maybourne. "I enjoyed coffee with you last week, Lt. Carter. I wouldn't mind seeing you again sometime."

She gave him an incredulous look. "I . . . I see. Thanks, but no thanks."

"It could be fun," he suggested, taking a step closer to her, and Samantha was ready to slug him one.

"Sir, I'm really not interested," she said.

He shrugged. "No skin off my nose," he replied and headed away down the hall.

Struggling to remember how she'd reacted the last time someone had hit on her obnoxiously, she rolled her eyes and walked down to the kitchen, keeping her expression sour. She had expected a note or something, so that had been a little startling. She fetched Daniel's lunch and wondered just how she was going to get out of spending the afternoon with the archeologist, but when she got to the room, she found that Colonel O'Neill was already there. Unlike so many occasions in the past, despite the fact that O'Neill had roughed him up the previous day, Daniel seemed comfortable in his presence. She gave up trying to figure men out and left the tray. She headed down to the same level as Maybourne's office and went to the restroom. She had a phase shifter on her already today, in case of need. Activating it, she went to Maybourne's office where she found him ready and waiting for her.

"Good afternoon, my dear. How badly is Dr. Jackson's arm broken?"

"We don't know yet," she said. "Hammond hasn't allowed him to be x-rayed."

"Well, he'll want the man's arm in working order, so he'll have to do it by this time tomorrow, I suspect."

"Lovely," she said sourly. "Is that what you brought me here for?"

"No," he replied. "I'm going to the alternate reality your Daniel is from tomorrow, and they'll want news of their man. Is there anything I need to know? Has our Colonel O'Neill done anything to him? I do know that the broken arm wasn't his fault."

"He roughed him up a bit yesterday, but nothing serious," she said, blinking. "You're actually going there tomorrow?"

"I am."

"Ask them if it would be better for their Daniel to know that we're trying to get him home, or if it would be better for him not to know." She bit her lip. "He's . . . he was awfully willing to let Hammond kill him rather than translate that Jaffa thing yesterday."

"I'll ask," Maybourne said. "I'm not sure how you'd go about telling him."

"I was actually thinking you could get the Daniel they have to translate a note into Goa'uld or something that I could mix into a project I take him."

"That's not a bad thought," he said. "I'll suggest it if they think he needs boosting. Can you tell me what his mood is like?"

"More than a little alarmed, but right now he seems almost comfortable with the colonel. I think he thinks he knows what to expect from him."

"Does he know?" Maybourne seemed almost to be asking himself, but she answered anyway.

"How should I know? I don't understand either of them, or our original Daniel. How that man could think being beaten up repeatedly was a sign of friendship is beyond me."

"I'd say it's a guy thing, but I'm sure you've heard that before and know it for the bullshit it is." He grinned at her expression. "It's very simple, there is a very similar abusive relationship in our Daniel's past. Because of that previous experience, when O'Neill started smacking him around, I suspect it made him feel safe and cared for. It's unfortunate, but it's all too common for abused children to enter into abusive relationships as adults, either as the abuser or the abused."

"Abusive relationship?" she asked, astonished. "What abusive relationship? Wait, you're not suggesting that they are . . ." She couldn't say it, the idea was so absurd.

"Of course not," he said. "I'm merely suggesting that they were in an abusive relationship, which you are already on record as agreeing with."

"But what abusive relationship? What do you know that I don't?"

"I'm afraid that information we have gleaned about Dr. Jackson's private life is just that, private."

"He's dead!"

"Even so, we plan to bring him back. It would hardly be appropriate for me to violate his privacy in that way."

"Sir, if there is an explanation for the behavior that led to Daniel's death, I want to know what I need to do to prevent the same thing from happening again."

Maybourne looked perplexed. "I had never intended that the two men should meet again. It would probably be best for them to be kept apart."

"I don't think that's going to happen, sir," she said. "They're like brothers, and the reason Colonel O'Neill is so crazy is that he feels guilty for what happened. They'll need counseling, but they'll also need each other."

"I figured we'd put Dr. Jackson in another facility to do his work. I mean, it would be –"

"Imprisonment," she said incredulously. "What, were you planning to do the same thing with our Daniel that we've been doing with the others? Absolutely not! If there's one thing this experience has taught me, it's that holding Daniel prisoner is a bad idea."

"Are you saying that Dr. Jackson would view it as imprisonment if he were not permitted to see his murderer?"

She rolled her eyes. "He won't think of Colonel O'Neill as his murderer. He'll say it was an accident."

"In the strictest sense, I suppose it is," Maybourne said slowly. "Manslaughter, but still, he was killed by that man."

"By his actions, perhaps, but Daniel won't blame the colonel. He'll say that Colonel O'Neill was just looking out for him, that he just gets carried away sometimes when he's worried, he doesn't mean anything by it." She shook her head. "He told me, two days before he died that Colonel O'Neill would never really hurt him."

"That's insane!" Maybourne protested.

She gave him an irritated look. "I thought you were the one who understood all this abused child stuff."

"I do," he said in a subdued voice. "That doesn't make it any less insane."

"Well, take it from me, they may both of them need some kind of help to avoid falling into the same patterns, but they will not be okay with being separated. You might, maybe, be able to convince Colonel O'Neill that it was for Daniel's safety, but you'd never convince Daniel. And we have positive proof that he's the most stubborn man alive in any reality."

"Nothing is set in stone as of yet," he replied. "You will, of course, be part of the decision making process, being the only sane person who knows the two of them well enough to have sound judgment in this area."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said, noting that 'part of the decision making process' was a fairly meaningless phrase. She'd have to push him later to discover just what he meant. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"What is Dr. Jackson's mood like? That may be something they'll need to know on the other side."

She pursed her lips. "Well, I told you he was frighteningly willing for Hammond to kill him yesterday, but our Daniel would have reacted the same way from what I understand."

"Hammond wouldn't have killed him no matter what. That was a test from start to finish. He wanted to see whether Jackson's will was broken or not. He got the clear message that it most definitely was not. I'm not altogether sure that's a good thing, but it should have the benefit of putting off any possible offworld missions for a bit longer."

She blinked at this information, then shook her head. "That's not the point. Daniel didn't know it was a test, and he was willing to be killed rather than translate that document."

"I'm really not sure I should tell them that," Maybourne said, looking alarmed. "Carter, you aren't serious, he wouldn't have died rather than do it, would he?"

"Have you seen the video footage of the 'consequences,' as Hammond put it, sir?" He shook his head. "Hammond told him he could translate the document or have his arm broken. He calmly asked which arm, then extended the relevant one when Hammond told him." Maybourne's eyebrows rose. "He would have died. I guarantee you. So would ours, and so would any of the other five that we've had here. They are all stubborn idiots with strong moral codes."

"Anything else?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I mean, what good would it do? I suppose you could tell them that Daniel has done every project they've given him so far until the one that would have ended in the death of a thousand innocent Jaffa, but I don't know what it would mean to them, precisely."

"Has Daniel gotten any medical attention for that arm?"

"Just some ice I got and what the colonel did."

"What the colonel did?"

"He splinted it and jury-rigged a sling. I really hope Hammond doesn't get mad about it, but we couldn't just leave him like that."

"I see. The colonel did that?"

"Yes sir," she said. "He's . . . you probably shouldn't tell them this, but he's kind of going in and out of a delusional state. He keeps thinking that this Daniel is our Daniel. It's very disconcerting."

"I'd imagine," Maybourne said, seeming very uneasy. "Just how crazy is O'Neill?"

"It's hard to guess, sir," she said. "And Hammond just feeds it, so it's not getting any better."

"Well, if Hammond keeps attacking a man that O'Neill thinks is the original Daniel from this reality, while simultaneously pumping O'Neill full of drugs to make him more violent and aggressive, Hammond is going to catch himself a severe case of death."

"Yes sir, I had noticed that," she replied.

"I will contact you again soon. Probably not tomorrow, because I'll be going through the mirror."

"I'm supposed to have dinner with the colonel tomorrow night," she said, feeling like a traitor. "Is there anything you need to know from him?"

"Nothing leaps to mind at the moment," he said. "But let me know if you find out anything that seems important."

"Of course," she replied. "I'd better go. Someone may be looking for me soon."

"I will see you on Friday, then," he said. "With news from the other reality."

"How do you intend to get him home?" she asked.

"It became considerably more complicated with the introduction of the bomb into his body. We may have to eliminate Hammond first, and that will take planning."

"Right," she said. "Let me know, and I'll tell you if I learn anything useful."

He nodded and she left, heading to the restroom. She had to wait for five minutes for the stall she wanted to open up, but then she headed for her lab immediately. She'd better get her work done so Hammond didn't get upset with her.

* * *

Once Daniel had finished eating, Jack took his tray away and gave it to one of the guards outside. Daniel looked over at him. "Is there any chance I could go for a walk sometime soon? Even just through the halls. It would be nice to see walls other than these for a change."

"I don't know, Danny," Jack said. "We'll see what Hammond wants to do about your x-rays."

Daniel bit his lip, then nodded. He hadn't even considered that they'd have to take him out of here for medical treatment. Unless they had a portable x-ray machine. He sighed and got to work. He didn't want to think about that.

"You need to take a break, Danny," Jack said.

"I just did," Daniel replied. "I ate lunch." He was aching and tired, but the end of this damned monument was in sight, and he wanted to finish it.

"Danny . . ."

"Jack, I don't want to stop. Hammond's only putting up with me because I'm useful. I've got to stay useful."

"He also said you could take today off, didn't he?"

"Only because of the arm."

"Come on, Danny, beat me at chess a couple times. It's been a long time since we've played."

"If Hammond gets angry, it will be at me, Jack."

"He won't get angry, Danny. It'll be fine."

Daniel let himself be persuaded. He also let himself be persuaded to play the game from his bed. Jack got his arm out of the sling and packed it in ice. "This is pretty awkward, Jack," he said, but Jack propped him up on pillows so he was at a better angle to see the board.

He fell asleep shortly after he checkmated Jack and dreamed that he was in a dungeon somewhere being tortured. When he awoke, he found that Jack had covered him with a spare blanket. The man himself was across the room, reading a book that Daniel hadn't seen in the office before. It was a bright red paperback, but Daniel couldn't make out the title because his glasses were off.

He couldn't see the clock clearly from where he was, but he guessed he'd been asleep for awhile. "Jack?" he said.

"Daniel." Jack got up and came across the room immediately. "You okay? You need anything?"

"A large shot of morphine might be nice."

Jack chuckled. "Funny, too. You on morphine is hysterical."

Daniel squinted up at him. "That's not my fault," he said. "Can I have my glasses?"

Jack handed them to him and said, "So, you want to play another game of chess?"

"Not sure I can. I'm kind of sleepy still."

"Well, if you're too sleepy for chess, you're definitely too sleepy for work."

"Work. I should work," Daniel said muzzily.

"Damn it, I shouldn't have mentioned that," Jack muttered. "Here, why don't I read to you for awhile."

"Can you?" Daniel asked.

"Can I what?"

"Read."

"You're even a smart ass when you're half asleep," Jack complained. "Do you need another pillow?"

"I'm good," Daniel said. "But I really should get back to work."

"You're done for today," Jack said. "Lay back and listen."

Daniel listened as Jack started reading to him. It was a melodramatic murder mystery, and Jack gave it his all. Daniel found himself very amused by the gusto with which Jack read the story. He had difficulty imagining his own Jack getting quite so enthusiastic. He was still reading about forty-five minutes later when Samantha came in with his dinner. She actually brought in a rolling table with three trays on it and pulled the desk chair over to join them.

It felt oddly homelike until he recalled that he was locked in here and couldn't go back to his own reality. Occasionally it was very difficult to remember that Jack and Samantha were his jailers since they resembled his own friends so nearly. And it didn't help that they were almost the only people he'd seen. Samantha was the only person he'd seen in more than two weeks who was consistently nice to him.

His world was narrowing, inevitably, to the work and the people he saw. He needed to get out of here. Much longer and he was going to have a hell of a time returning to normal. Habits form amazingly quickly, but breaking out of them can take years.

The lights dimmed and they left him alone, though Jack promised that he would check on him periodically during the night. Despite all that had happened, that made Daniel feel safer. He disregarded the thought that told him he should resist such feelings and went to sleep.

* * *

**_Thursday, April 22  
_ **Reality** ** **L583**

When Jack walked into Carter's lab, he found that she'd wired every monitoring device he'd ever seen and some others that he'd never seen before up to the mirror. Obviously she was preparing for Maybourne's promised second visit.

"I'm not going to miss anything this time," she said, reading his mind. "I've even got cameras recording in three different spectra."

"That's great, Carter," Jack said. "Um . . . he's going to need someplace to stand when he comes through."

She glared at him, then started shifting things around so that there would be space. He wondered how early the man would show up. He'd just said he'd be back in a week.

"Do you think that's enough room?" she asked after a few minutes.

"I think so," he said, gazing at the open space. "I really hope he has Daniel with him this time."

Carter gave him a worried look. "I don't think he will, sir," she said. "I got the impression that he was having difficulty getting close to him."

He shook his head. "I know. I don't expect him to, I just . . . it would be nice."

She smiled sadly. "It would be nice."

"I wish I knew what to make of this," Jack said. "I don't like the thought that Daniel may come back afraid of me."

"I don't think that's likely," she said. "I mean, you're you and he's him." She blinked. "Um . . . I mean . . ."

He snorted. "I know what you mean, Carter. But Daniel will still have spent two weeks getting beaten up on by someone who looks and sounds an awful lot like me. If I come on our guest Daniel unawares, he still sometimes flinches away from me."

"But you're still not his Colonel O'Neill. It may make a difference, sir."

"I suppose." Jack sat down and gazed unhappily into the mirror. "I want our Daniel back and that Daniel home."

Carter nodded and started hooking yet another monitor up to the mirror. Jack suddenly found himself looking at a reflective surface that nevertheless did not reflect the room around him. Harry Maybourne stepped into view, looked at someone who must be behind the mirror on his end, and then looked at him. He made a clear gesture requesting permission to come through. Jack nodded.

A moment later Maybourne was in the room with him and the mirror winked out. Carter looked up and gave a little start of surprise. "Good morning," Maybourne said.

"Hello," Carter replied.

"Did you get what you needed?" Jack asked Carter. She nodded mutely, and Jack turned to Maybourne. "How much time to you have?"

"About six hours today. Someone will reactivate the mirror at approximately thirteen-forty this afternoon."

"Did you bring specs or a controller with you?" Carter asked.

"I'm afraid not," he said. "I put your request in, but they haven't ruled on it yet."

"Damn."

Maybourne was looking around the lab, eyes wide. "Good heavens, you've filled this room up a bit, haven't you?" Maybourne said, glancing around.

"I'm learning everything I can about this thing," Carter said. "Without a controller . . ."

Maybourne nodded. "Well, where is General Hammond?"

"I'd better call him," Jack said, reaching toward the phone.

"Just a moment," Maybourne said. "This may seem like an odd question, but how does your General Hammond feel about Dr. Jackson? On a personal level?"

"He's very fond of him," Jack said.

Maybourne's brows raised. "That's just so . . . different," he said, shaking his head.

"Why?" Carter asked. "How does your Hammond feel about Daniel?"

"First of all, he's not my Hammond," Maybourne said sharply. Carter blinked and looked uncomfortable. "And second, he despises Dr. Jackson. He'd be just as happy to do without him if he could, but he didn't realize how much he needed the man's skills until he was already dead and past recall."

"And he's in charge of the SGC?" Jack asked.

"He is."

"Great. Look, I need to call Hammond . . ." Jack blinked. "Our Hammond. You say you're here for six hours?" The other man nodded and Jack went to the phone. Hammond said he'd be down in a few minutes, and Jack hung up. He turned back to the others. "Carter, is anyone using the lab next door?"

"No sir. This is kind of out of the way."

"Right, then we're going next door. There's nowhere to sit down in here. Let the general know and come in with him when he gets here."

"Of course, sir," she said, and Jack ushered Maybourne out into the hall and down to the next lab.

Jack gestured for Maybourne to sit down, then called Rothman. They'd started allowing the second archeologist in to see the visiting Daniel because it was easier for Daniel to communicate his needs for secondary source materials directly to the other academic. He asked Rothman to relieve Teal'c and send him on. Teal'c had been mightily disgruntled to miss Maybourne's visit the previous Thursday, Jack wasn't going to make him miss this one, too.

"So how's Daniel?" Jack asked. Obviously he was still alive, or Maybourne would probably not have bothered to show up, but he still had to know.

"That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about at length," Maybourne said. "But it had probably better wait until everyone's here." Jack pursed his lips, dissatisfied. "He's alive, colonel."

"But is he well?" Jack asked.

"That depends on your definition," Maybourne replied. Jack wanted more answers, but obviously he wasn't going to get them just now.

Hammond and Carter showed up first, and Jack sent for coffee. "What are we waiting for?" Maybourne asked after a moment.

"The other member of SG-1," Jack replied.

"Kowalski?" Maybourne asked.

"Um . . . no, Major Kowalski is dead." Carter glanced uneasily at Jack who had stiffened at the name. "For nearly two years, and he was never on SG-1. He had his own command, SG-2."

"I see. Then who –"

The door opened and they all turned to see Teal'c enter. Maybourne jumped to his feet in apparent alarm. "It's a Jaffa!" he exclaimed, fumbling for a weapon that wasn't on his belt.

"Yes, we know," Jack said. "Teal'c, this is Lt. Colonel Maybourne. Maybourne, this is Teal'c, the other member of SG-1."

To his credit, Maybourne relaxed very quickly. "I see. You're not First Prime of Apophis?"

"I was," Teal'c said with admirable aplomb. "But I have joined with the Tau'ri in their fight against the Goa'uld, the false gods."

"Okay," Maybourne said. "Well, then, now can we get down to business?"

"Of course," Hammond said. "What have you got to tell us?"

"Well, first of all, I now have a contact who can actually get in to see Dr. Jackson. Lt. Carter has finally agreed to help out."

"Lt. Carter?" Hammond repeated. "Would that be Samantha Carter?"

"Yes sir," Maybourne said. "She was demoted about a year ago for suggesting that her superior officer might have been abusing one of his subordinates. The fact that the man later killed his subordinate doesn't seem to have altered anyone's opinions any."

"Are you saying your Colonel O'Neill killed your Daniel?" Carter asked, looking appalled.

"Yes," Maybourne said grimly. Jack felt his gut clench. That was the man who had their Daniel in his power. "It was an accident, in truth, but if Carter's warning had been heeded, Dr. Jackson would probably not have died."

"The man he half killed and left for dead here was no accident," Hammond said. "How is our Daniel?"

"I'm getting to that. I think you should have a little background so that you'll understand the situation as it's playing out." Jack contained his desire to strangle information out of their guest and Hammond nodded sharply for him to go on. "During the several missions to Abydos that followed the initial activation of the stargate, Dr. Jackson and Colonel O'Neill became quite close, rather like brothers, and –"

"Several missions to Abydos?" Jack asked.

Maybourne knit his brows. "Fascinating as it might be to go into the details of how our realities differ, colonel, I think we should stick to the point for now."

Jack crossed his arms and grimaced. "Go on," he said.

Maybourne nodded. "Like brothers, they tended to roughhouse a bit, but it was nothing more than you'd see between two male friends ordinarily. It seemed perfectly normal at first." Jack nodded, finding this more than a little weird. He had difficulty imagining himself roughhousing with Daniel. "But both men had physical abuse in their backgrounds, and that led both of them into dangerous areas. Jackson would do something foolish, and it would worry O'Neill, who would respond as an abusive father or older brother might. This, too, might have been relatively harmless, but for other developments at the SGC."

"That doesn't sound relatively harmless to me!" Jack exclaimed.

"Bruises, colonel," Maybourne said. "Black eyes. Nothing serious, nothing remotely close to life threatening."

Hammond gave Jack a stern look and he subsided again. He wanted to know how Daniel was, and this wasn't sounding promising.

"What were the other developments?" Carter asked.

"The other Hammond, the Hammond from my reality, is an unmitigated bastard." Jack's brows rose at this bluntness. Hammond just waited patiently for Maybourne to go on. "He wants results, period, and results for him means getting as much alien technology to help us fight the Goa'uld as possible, and damn the consequences. And since he has backing all the way up to the Oval Office, there's not much anyone can do to stop him."

"And?" Carter asked.

"Once a week, every member of the SGC gets a vitamin shot. The theory is that they're all active people without a lot of time, and this guarantees that they won't get sick as readily as they might given that they don't eat as regularly as they should." Jack blinked. He could just imagine Janet Fraiser's reaction to that suggestion. "Unfortunately, it has become a means of controlling the mood and behavior of those who aren't performing up to Hammond's standards."

"Good lord!" Hammond exclaimed. "Are you telling me that he's drugging his people?"

Maybourne nodded. "It's tailored to the individual. For example, Lt. Carter is getting depressants to make her more apathetic, less inclined to take action when she sees things that should be changed. Not enough to hinder her scientific reasoning, but enough to remove her impetus to act." Jack glanced at Carter who looked as if she felt ill. "Before he died, Dr. Jackson was given a similar mixture. Hammond never liked his tendency to sympathize with the people SG-1 met, and he didn't approve of the influence Jackson's pacifist beliefs had on Colonel O'Neill."

"What about your me?" Jack asked.

"That's the key. Colonel O'Neill was given drugs to stimulate aggression and violent behavior. This made it less likely that he would give in to Dr. Jackson's pressure to be nice to people, and it also gave him strong motivation to get what he wanted no matter what the cost."

"And had the added side effect of making him even more likely to beat Daniel into pulp," Carter said, sounding horrified.

"An already unhealthy relationship was intensified, the abuser becoming more aggressive and the abused becoming more passive. This set the stage for Dr. Jackson's death, which was genuinely an accident."

"So, what about the additional Daniels?" Jack asked. "How do they come into the picture, and what reason does this Jack have for beating the holy hell out of them?"

"That's a bit more complicated. Hammond, as I said, had no use for Dr. Jackson until after he was dead. Once he realized how much Dr. Jackson actually did for the program, he became very angry and demanded to know what they were going to do without him. O'Neill snapped mentally. He was racked with grief and guilt, and he remembered the transdimensional mirror. They stole their first Daniel, and problems started almost immediately."

"He wasn't their Daniel," Jack said. "O'Neill wasn't able to make it up to him, because he wasn't the right man and all he wanted to do was go home."

Maybourne nodded. "And that set the pattern. The new Daniel would work for a time, but he'd keep trying to convince people to let him go home, O'Neill would eventually lose his temper, and they'd go out to find a new Daniel. Meanwhile, Hammond is demanding results yesterday, and looking himself for a Daniel that can be molded to his way of thinking."

"Are you trying to tell us that your O'Neill is not responsible for his actions?" Teal'c asked in deadly tones.

Maybourne looked at him uneasily. "No, I'm not. He's certainly responsible for the way his friendship with Dr. Jackson developed, and he made some piss poor choices, but at this point he has lost his mind. He has brief moments of lucidity, but . . . let me tell this in order. The answer, Teal'c, is both yes and no. There are things he's responsible for, but he didn't know he was being drugged, so the influence of the drugs was beyond his control."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, looking unconvinced, but Hammond nodded for Maybourne to go on.

"So, now we come to your Daniel. He has not followed the same pattern as the others. He has fallen into the correct behaviors to fit with O'Neill's preconceptions of how Daniel should act, and he has managed to keep O'Neill calm and non-abusive for the most part."

"How?" Jack asked.

"I don't know a lot of details. I haven't seen him, and I haven't seen the video footage. Lt. Carter says it's like he knows what to expect from him. I don't really understand why, but I don't know your Daniel."

"So, Daniel hasn't been hurt?" Jack raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound very much like the O'Neill the other Daniel had described.

"I wouldn't say that," Maybourne said. "What I do know is that Dr. Jackson has not rebelled for the most part. He's done every project they've asked of him, and on the first night he saved the lives of a team that was trapped on a planet where the natives had decided to kill them all to propitiate an angry god and stop an earthquake." Jack blinked. That was Daniel for you. Kidnapped from his own reality, probably smacked around a bit, and still he saved the other guys' teams from nasty deaths.

"Why wouldn't he rebel?" Carter asked. "He's incredibly stubborn. What are they asking him to do?"

"For the most part it's been garden variety translations. Nothing of immediate military significance, a couple of things that were merely socially significant. There was no reason for him to object to any of it, until yesterday." That last word felt like a portent of doom. Jack gulped.

"What did they give him yesterday?" Hammond asked.

"Hammond – the other Hammond . . ." Maybourne looked at the general to see how he was reacting. Hammond gave an impatient nod. "Hammond decided to give him a little test, to see how acclimated he was." Maybourne looked sour. "He's been so submissive that I think Hammond was hoping that they'd be able to get him to do whatever they wanted. He gave Dr. Jackson an intelligence report that was a clear plan to attack a town full of ordinary Jaffa, no guards, no Goa'ulds, just women, children and old men."

Carter's eyes widened and her hand came up to cover her mouth. Teal'c looked a touch more stoic than usual. Hammond blinked a couple of times, and Jack said, "How bad is the damage?"

"O'Neill roughed him up a bit, I'm told, but Carter said it was nothing serious, and I'd guess he gave up trying to persuade him. Then Hammond gave him a choice. Do it or have his arm broken."

"Which arm?" Jack asked.

"Left," Maybourne said. "Carter says he simply extended it and let them do it."

"That's Daniel," Jack said grimly. "So, he's got a broken arm."

"Yes," Maybourne said. "Now there are a couple of other things. Carter is concerned. She said that he was completely willing to let Hammond kill him rather than translate that report. She thinks that he might be less willing to sacrifice himself if he knew that we're working on getting him home, but there's no way for her to tell him that because he's monitored and recorded round the clock."

"How could we help?" Hammond asked.

"If you could get the Jackson here to write a note in Goa'uld or some other language that only Jackson can read, Carter could get that in to him in one of the projects she takes him to work on. That's the only way we can come up with, and since he's the only one in that reality who can read most of those languages, we don't have any way to write it there."

"I don't think we should take this to that Daniel," Carter said, and Jack shook his head.

"I agree. We haven't even told him about you. Didn't want to get his hopes up or make him wonder if we were negotiating to give him back in exchange for our Daniel." Maybourne nodded pensively. "But as it happens, he's not the only one here who can write in Goa'uld."

"No indeed," Teal'c said. "What should the message say?"

"Don't get your fool ass killed," Jack said.

"I shall attempt to paraphrase," Teal'c replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Is the General Hammond of your reality actually likely to kill him?" Hammond asked. "The others have merely been beaten badly and traded out."

Maybourne took a deep breath, and the disquiet in his expression alarmed Jack deeply. "Your Dr. Jackson has been extraordinarily cooperative, not complaining about his treatment or his captivity too much. He has kept Colonel O'Neill on an even keel, no mean feat I can assure you. And he has broken records as far as productivity goes. Hammond plans to keep him, but he believes, quite accurately I'd imagine, that he needs a way to control him."

Jack straightened slowly in his chair. "Just how does he plan to control him?" Maybourne's brows rose and he leaned away from the hostility Jack was radiating.

"He's had a tiny bomb surgically implanted in Dr. Jackson's chest, right next to his heart."

The silence in the lab was impenetrable for a moment. "A bomb?" Jack repeated, feeling the cold fires of his rage stoking higher.

"Yes, with a remote control that we haven't been able to locate or identify. All we know for certain is that it's in Hammond's possession."

Carter looked stunned, and Teal'c's eyes had narrowed. Hammond's cold soldier mask had dropped into place. "It doesn't seem very practical to kill a man he's gone to so much trouble to acquire."

"Ah, but Hammond has it firmly in mind that Dr. Jackson is completely replaceable, and if he can't have this one, no one will."

"This complicates a rescue attempt," Jack said.

"You put your finger right on the crux of the matter," Maybourne said. "And one of the biggest complications. We can't risk attempting rescue without careful planning. He's closely monitored, and Hammond is a greedy, vengeful moron who will kill what he can't keep. According to what I've been told, he's set it up so that if Dr. Jackson were to escape during an offworld mission, all they'd have to do is activate the remote control though the gate and he would be dead."

"My God," Carter murmured. "What would make someone do that to Daniel?"

"An overriding need to dominate," Teal'c said abruptly. "Such a man would see DanielJackson as nothing more than an asset to be controlled, and discarded if it does not meet expectations." Maybourne nodded agreement, and Jack scowled. No one could control Daniel. He was a force of nature.

"Daniel will rebel, eventually, it's inevitable," Carter said. "What will happen then?"

"Probably another broken limb or something of that nature," Maybourne said. "As long as I have the mirror at Area 52, Hammond doesn't have the ability to seek a new Daniel." He grimaced. "And if the general requests it, we will conveniently 'lose track' of it."

"That's good to know," Hammond said.

"So you said 'one of the biggest complications.' What else is there?"

Maybourne sighed. "O'Neill's insanity. As I said earlier, he has moments of lucidity, when he knows that the man in the cell is a Daniel Jackson from another reality, but more and more frequently he's descending into a delusional state where he's convinced that the man they're holding is the Daniel Jackson from our reality. Shattering that illusion could be very dangerous. The man is still being pumped full of aggression enhancing drugs, and he's on a hair trigger."

"So if Daniel tries to convince him he's not from there . . ."

"The consequences could be devastating," Maybourne said, nodding. "But on the upside, Hammond's interference has pissed him off. O'Neill now wants to get rid of Hammond, and that could cause just the distraction we need."

"What kind of time frame are we talking about here?" Jack asked.

"Impossible to predict," Maybourne said. "But I've got Lt. Carter working with me, and she's working with O'Neill as well. She knows now that she's being drugged and is fighting against the influence. O'Neill has become very defensive of Dr. Jackson, and one can hope that will keep him from damaging him himself." Maybourne shrugged. "So that means Jackson got through to him." Jack raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Depending on your point of view," their guest qualified.

"That's not how abuse works," Jack said. "He may be very defensive of Daniel himself, but that won't stop him from . . ." He shook his head. "It's the 'my Odie' syndrome. 'I can hit him, but no one else can.'"

"Unfortunately, you may be right," Maybourne said. "Though the fact that Daniel Jackson is injured should have the effect of putting on the brakes for the time being at least."

"The broken arm," Jack said, closing his eyes. "Damn the man for not being practical."

"You cannot damn him for being himself, O'Neill," Teal'c said.

"I can damn him for anything I want to," Jack replied sourly. "Damn it! I want to string that bastard up by his ears and feed him to hungry iguanas!"

"I do not believe iguanas would attempt to eat something that large, even if it were hanging."

"Teal'c!" Jack exclaimed in pure exasperation.

The Jaffa opened his mouth but before he could speak Hammond said, "Never mind. Let me see if I've got this straight. Our Daniel Jackson has sustained a broken arm and miscellaneous bruises, and has a bomb implanted in his chest." The word 'bomb' reverberated with all the rage Hammond was suppressing. "Otherwise he is unhurt?"

"Yes," Maybourne said.

"Because of the bomb, you don't feel you can make concrete plans to retrieve him, but you now have an ally on the inside."

"Correct."

"Besides this note, what do you want from us?"

Maybourne shrugged. "Nothing at this point. I'm afraid there isn't much you can do, but I do need that note, and I wanted to keep you in the loop."

"I can't tell you how much we appreciate that," Hammond said, and Jack nodded. "What are your plans?"

"For the moment, I plan to pray," Maybourne said. "I can't even get onto the floor of the mountain where Dr. Jackson is being kept, Carter and I have to use phase shifting technology in order to meet, I got the news just this morning that Hammond had the doctor up O'Neill's last dose of aggression enhancing drugs on Tuesday . . . and I can't even guess what new crisis is going to develop tomorrow."

They were all silent for a moment. Jack thought about Daniel, alone and with a broken arm, locked in somewhere. "What are the conditions Daniel's being kept in?" he asked suddenly.

Maybourne reached out and took a piece of paper and sketched out a box. "The room he's being kept in is about ten by fifteen feet. He's got a single bed, which by the way is an enormous improvement over the cot that's been there in the past. O'Neill had it bought in while he was sick." He was sketching as he spoke. "There's a desk here, book cases along here and here. There's a bathroom here with a tub shower arrangement and a laundry chute here. His food is brought in daily by either Carter or O'Neill, or if they're offworld, by one of the airmen who –"

"Wait, are you saying that Daniel never gets out of this room?" Jack asked.

"The one time he was taken out of the room since he was brought there, he was unconscious the whole time. Warner refused to operate outside the confines of his sterile surgery."

"What about for the broken arm?" Carter asked.

Maybourne's expression darkened and Jack felt his eyes narrowing even before he spoke. "He hasn't been given medical treatment for the broken arm. Carter and O'Neill iced it, and O'Neill put together a makeshift splint, but no pain meds, not even an x-ray. I gather that Hammond wanted him to think about the consequences of refusal."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Your Hammond is an idiot!" he said. "I can think of few more certain ways to get Daniel to dig his heels in than that."

"Indeed," Teal'c said.

"I never said he wasn't an idiot," Maybourne said. "He's blinded by his greed and a desperate desire for advancement. President Kinsey seems likely to give –"

"Kinsey!" Jack and Hammond exclaimed together. Hammond gave Jack an alarmed look and then went on alone. "Robert Kinsey is the president in your reality?"

"What is he here? I figured he'd be some kind of sweetness and light goody two shoes." He looked at them. "From your expressions and tones, I'd guess I'm wrong."

"I guess that depends on your definition, colonel," Hammond said. "Here he's violently opposed to the stargate program and all it represents."

"Whereas in my reality he wants to march in and seize whole planets and convert them forcibly to the American way."

"Oh boy," Jack said, shaking his head.

"Here he succeeded in shutting us down right before the Goa'uld attempted to invade Earth," Carter said. "We only defeated them because Daniel con –" She broke off and Jack thought he saw the glint of tears in her eyes. "Because Daniel convinced us to take matters into our own hands and go through the gate anyway."

"I see," Maybourne said slowly. "Hammond sent a large strike force through the gate. None of them came back, but both ships were destroyed in orbit."

Carter blinked. "It was just the four of us."

"And Master Bray'tac," Teal'c said.

Carter gave an embarrassed cough. "I meant that it was only the four of us from the SGC," she said. "There were Bray'tac and all the other Jaffa who helped and died on the ships."

Teal'c graced her with that immensely respectful nod of his. "True, Captain Carter."

"The Jaffa helped you to defeat Apophis?" Maybourne asked incredulously.

"There are bound to be any number of differences between our realities," Hammond said. "As you said, that really isn't our focus just now."

"Of course," Maybourne said. "Any other questions? I know very little more about the care Jackson is receiving."

"You said your O'Neill didn't intend to kill his Daniel," Carter said. "How did it happen, then?"

"As I understand it, O'Neill was chastising him physically, the back of his head hit a door frame, and he refused to see the doctor. O'Neill put him to bed, and he was dead by morning." He must have seen Jack's expression, because he said, "You've got to understand, they were both participating. When Carter expressed concern, Hammond let it slip to the two of them, and they were both mad at her."

"They were co-dependent?" Carter asked.

"Very much so, and the drugs they were each being given reinforced that."

"As the stronger man, O'Neill should have controlled himself," Teal'c said grimly. "It was his responsibility."

"Well, regardless," Maybourne said, "is there anything else you want to know?"

"Have you figured out if you can send the other Daniels to their homes?" Jack asked. "There's a nice man here who wants to get back to his family."

"We will be able to, but we haven't got all the records yet. I've got someone getting them for me, but it may take time . . ." Maybourne puttered to a stop. "Wait, family? What family?"

"This fellow's Sha're wasn't taken," Jack said. "They have two kids."

Maybourne's eyes widened. "It's a damn good thing Hammond didn't know that. I don't know how O'Neill would have taken it, but Hammond would have gone and gotten them to use as hostage to that Daniel's good behavior." Jack shuddered at the thought of two-year-olds being used as hostages. So did Hammond. Teal'c merely glowered. "Hey, if he'd done that, you'd probably still have your Daniel, and I'd be talking to his friends now."

"And for some strange reason you think we'd think that's better?" Jack asked.

"Point," Maybourne agreed. "Well, we should give some thought to what you want your Daniel to know."

"I've started a list," Carter said, and Maybourne gave her an odd look. "Of things Daniel should know," she said, clarifying unnecessarily.

"Really? And what's on this list, pray tell?"

She glared at him, but gamely began to read aloud. "The Daniel that was left here is okay and will recover completely. We know he's not you. We're looking for ways to bring him home." She looked up. "By 'him' here, I mean our Daniel."

"Right, Carter," Jack said.

"We've got allies in the reality he's in now," she continued. "He's not to get himself killed, because we won't give up until he's home . . . anything else?"

"Lay a lot of emphasis on the not getting killed part," Jack said, leaning over to Teal'c.

"I will," Teal'c replied. "Is there anything else that needs to go into this missive?"

"If he's likely to see Maybourne, maybe his involvement should be mentioned," Jack said. "Otherwise Daniel might take one look and run in the opposite direction."

Maybourne raised his eyebrows. "Am I that bad here?"

"Worse," Jack said. "Think your Hammond."

"I see," Maybourne said. "Well, I don't know how likely he is to see me soon, but perhaps you should mention me as a friend and ally."

Teal'c nodded and with Carter's list positioned where he could see it, he began to write. "Don't forget, Teal'c," Jack said. "Tell him not to get his fool ass killed."

"Those exact words, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked.

"Well, yeah. In Chulakian or whatever, but yeah, those words."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow disdainfully at Jack's butchering of the language name, but he nodded and returned to work.

"Um . . . Teal'c?" Maybourne said. Teal'c looked up. "Do you know some Goa'uld history, or some kind of fairy tale . . . something to mix the note up with a little, so that it doesn't look like a note, you know?"

Teal'c looked thoughtful. "Indeed. Perhaps, also, I should have some paper that does not look quite so . . ."

"Machine made?" Jack said.

"I know where Dr. Lee keeps that paper he was testing," Carter said. "Some of the sheets are blank. I'll go get some." She was up and moving before she even finished the sentence. Jack glanced over and saw Maybourne watching her with appreciation.

"It would be nice to see the Carter in my reality so animated, or see her act with such decisiveness," Maybourne said after a moment. "She's been drugged with downers for the past eight months at least, and that takes a toll on anyone. Add to that the fact that she got demoted, her best friend died, her commanding officer went crazy because he killed her best friend . . . she's not in a cheerful frame of mind these days."

"No, I'd guess not," Jack said, sighing. "You haven't seen Daniel?" he asked.

"Not even video images of this one, truthfully. We haven't got our tap back yet, and Hammond doesn't trust me."

"With good reason," Teal'c observed.

Maybourne shrugged. "True." He pursed his lips. "As much as I don't like the idea, we may have to wait until Kinsey's impeached, and that won't happen till the evidence is in."

"How long is that likely to take?" Hammond asked.

"Six months at the outside."

"That is unacceptable," Hammond said as Jack spluttered.

"Over my dead and rotting body!" Jack exclaimed when he finally regained control of his tongue. "Over _their_ dead and rotting bodies."

"It's not ideal, I know," Maybourne said. "But it may be necessary."

"No way! I am not leaving one of my people in a little box for six months with a crowd of psychos who look like his friends beating up on him."

"When you put it that way . . ." Maybourne said slowly. "But he is getting out of the box soon, I believe. That was the point of the bomb."

"And that's another thing!" Jack growled. "I don't want him staying someplace where the guy in charge thinks it's nifty to put a bomb in a guy's chest to keep him from running off. Call me crazy, but I object in the strongest possible terms."

"You don't understand the difficulty –"

Jack rose and leaned over the table. "What I understand, Maybourne, is that, given enough time, Carter will work something out. We'll find her whoever she needs to do it, I can assure you, and we will get to your reality and we will get Daniel back. Six months is not only not acceptable, it's not happening. My man will be out of there as soon as it is humanly possible for us to do it, or sooner if you help us." He grinned tightly. "I recommend you help us."

"That's enough, colonel," Hammond said. "Sit down." He was putting on a stern face, but Jack could tell that the general was just as glad that he had stated his intentions so baldly. It saved the general from having to do it himself and allowed him to be diplomatic. "Lt. Colonel Maybourne, we will work with you in every way possible, but you must see it from our point of view."

Teal'c looked up and Jack realized that he had been writing. "I will tell him the date of his capture, to reassure him that it is indeed we who communicate with him . . . is there anything else I can say that would be confirmatory?"

"Not with the whole parallel reality thing," Jack said. "He'd never know if it was the right reality or just a very similar one. But at least he'll know that it's not people looking for the wrong Daniel."

Teal'c nodded thoughtfully. Hammond cleared his throat. "When will you make your next visit, Maybourne?"

"For certain next Thursday, sooner if I have news before then."

"Damn it! Daniel's already been there two and a half weeks!" Jack growled.

"I can't get to him myself, and I can't get you to him," Maybourne said. "And if you come through the mirror, you'll be in New Mexico, not Colorado, so it won't do you a hell of a lot of good."

"So move the damned thing," Jack said patiently.

"You really don't want it to be in Hammond's reach, O'Neill," Maybourne said. "Without the mirror, he has a vested interest in keeping your Daniel alive. With it, he can chuck him and get a new one."

"You have a point, Maybourne," Hammond said. "I certainly hope you can get back to us sooner than a week, though. We have a man here who desperately wants to get back to his family, and we want our man back."

"I can understand that," Maybourne said as Carter came in with the parchment paper. "I don't see anything I can do to make events move faster at this time. If something comes up, believe me, I'll seize the opportunity with both hands."

"Glad to hear it," Hammond said.

They were all silent for a moment, watching Teal'c start to work on the note. Maybourne cleared his throat apologetically after awhile. "I don't suppose I could have some lunch," he asked.

"Of course," Hammond said.

Jack went to order lunch for five. He hoped that this Maybourne was as trustworthy as he seemed, for all their sakes. It had become impossible to hide that there was something odd about Daniel, but the whole base did not yet know that they had a man from an alternate reality living in a VIP suite. Not yet. Time was passing too quickly, and the secret wouldn't hold much longer.

Could Daniel hold out another week? Could either Daniel?


	15. Chapter 15

**_Thursday, April 22  
_ Reality ** **A001**

Daniel did not sleep well. He kept turning his arm wrong, or banging it on something in his sleep and waking up. The splint was an enormous help, but it didn't protect the arm completely. He finally sat up and ran his fingers through his hair to shove it back from his face. The light was too dim for comfortable reading, but trying to sleep was pointless.

Before he could stop himself, he started totting up the time again in his head. Two and a half weeks now. For two and a half weeks his world had been this room. He looked around at the walls. It was a small world.

His options were limited. He had clear evidence that his activities were, in fact, being monitored, he knew the door had guards on it all the time. He'd listened and he could hear them talking if he pressed his ear against the panel. There was no way out of this room without help from the outside, and neither Samantha nor Jack was likely to help out there. Samantha seemed too cowed by the situation, and Jack . . . he was a different story. The Jack in this universe was clearly one of those abusers who genuinely cared about the person he was abusing. Just as clearly, he'd gone completely crazy. Daniel wasn't sure why, but his fixation on . . . well . . . on Daniels might provide a hint as to the cause.

He ardently wished he had someone to pump for information. And a way to get that information without Hammond, O'Neill and Samantha knowing about it. How had this reality's Daniel died? Kowalski's answer no longer seemed to fit with what he'd learned of the local Jack O'Neill. 'He got a bit unmanageable, and the colonel killed him.' The more he thought about it, the more it seemed calculated to do just what it had done, scare Daniel to death. Vague didn't begin to cover it, he'd provided no specific information at all apart from the fact that this O'Neill was responsible for his Daniel's death.

If that were true, and he had no evidence either way, it could offer a partial explanation for O'Neill's insanity and his obsession with keeping Daniel safe. Those words that Jack had said to him kept replaying themselves in his mind. 'Please. I don't want you to die again! Please!' There had been desperation in that tone. It had been a plea, and since Jack had repeatedly mistaken him for the Daniel from this reality, he had to assume that the plea had been directed toward his Danny.

How had Danny died? Why had Danny died? They weren't the same question, and Daniel had no one to ask. Jack kept getting confused, and Samantha was clearly trying to avoid anything that might tip Jack's mental state into some kind of dangerous collapse. Hammond probably wouldn't tell him the truth.

So he was stuck here, with no information, no one to ask for information, and at the mercy of his captors for food, electricity and water. They could stop any of those things at whim, and there would be nothing he could do about it but beg them to give it back. They might even be able to stop the air. Of the four items, that would be the best to go, he thought grimly. He'd suffer for the shortest amount of time. He shook his head and grimaced. That wasn't a good direction for his thoughts to be taking.

Sitting up, his left arm cradled in his right, he dozed for awhile, never fully asleep, but not really awake. Eventually, the lights came on. He got up and used the bathroom, then contemplated a shower. He'd have to take off the splint which sounded like a very bad idea with no one here to help him get it back on again.

At that moment, the outer door opened. Nervously, Daniel peered around the bathroom door. It was early yet for breakfast, so he wasn't sure who it could be.

"Danny!" called Jack's voice.

Daniel heaved a sigh of relief. Then he paused, blinking in startlement. The day before yesterday that man had battered him around the room, and now he was relieved that it was him? Why? Automatic self analysis provided the answer. Jack cared about him, he'd been trying to get him to do something to avoid being hurt or killed. Hammond just cared about what he produced. It had been as simple as a nod of the head to give the order for Coburn to break his arm. There had been no concern, just a cold fury at being defied.

He walked out into the room. "I'm here," he said.

Jack's eyes lit with something that looked a lot like relief. "God, I was afraid Hammond might have moved you without telling me."

Daniel's eyes widened and he gulped. Great, a new thing to worry about. He took a deep breath. "I really wouldn't like that," he said.

"Of course not," Jack replied, moving closer and putting an arm around his shoulders. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Daniel said. "And I need a shower, but I was afraid to take the splint off without someone to help me get it back on again."

"You probably shouldn't take it off," Jack said, brows knitting with concern. "Maybe we can wrap it in plastic or something."

The door opened again and Daniel turned, expecting Samantha. He was not expecting Dr. Warner, or the portable x-ray machine a couple of technicians wheeled in after him. One of the technicians was carrying a large bag, and Daniel had a strong suspicion that it contained everything they needed to build him a cast. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. Obviously Hammond was determined to keep him in this room for the foreseeable future.

He closed his eyes and drop his chin to his chest. He'd been hoping that this would at least get him out of this box.

"Dr. Jackson, if you will just come over here and let me get a look at that arm," Dr. Warner said.

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "Somehow I'm not inclined to trust my medical care to a man who planted a bomb in my chest."

Warner stopped, staring at him. Jack looked slightly stunned, as if he'd never really considered just how the bomb had gotten inside Daniel. Silence reined in the room for a minute, broken only by the techs who were ignoring them as they got the machine hooked up and ready for use.

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice, Dr. Jackson. I'm the only doctor at the facility right now, and your arm does need seen to."

Jack was now glaring at Warner. "Don't worry, Daniel, I'll be here the whole time." That actually made Daniel feel better. The doctor, on the other hand, looked decidedly nervous about the look he was getting from Jack.

Knowing that his options were limited and that he really did need the arm properly immobilized, Daniel followed the doctor's instructions. It was painful and boring. At first he was going to refuse medication, but then he realized that they didn't have to give it to him in pill form. All they had to do was put it in his food or drink and he'd take it without knowing it. At least this way he'd know he was taking it.

A horrifying thought occurred to him. He hadn't noticed anything odd about his coffee on Saturday when they knocked him out. He could be taking any number of drugs without knowing it. They could be giving him practically anything . . . something addictive, something to make him complacent . . . he shoved that realization down so it wouldn't affect his demeanor in any way.

Warner x-rayed his arm and confirmed what he already knew, that both bones were broken cleanly. Coburn was an expert at his calling, evidently. Daniel gulped and tried not to let his reaction show. It did make it a relatively simple thing to set and cast, though, which was a mercy. The bones weren't out of alignment at all, so it was simply a matter of wrapping the cast.

When it was done, Daniel had a cast that stretched from his palm to halfway up his upper arm and a nice blue and white sling to support it. Warner handed Jack a bottle and said, "He should get one pill with each meal to control pain." Daniel's lips tightened with irritation. Of course they wouldn't give the pills to him directly. He might do something crazy, like take them all at once.

"Right, doctor," Jack said. "Anything else you need to tell Daniel?" There was a subtle emphasis on the name, and Warner flushed.

Turning to Daniel, he said, "I'm going to order limited working hours for the next week. You've suffered a trauma, and healing requires rest."

Daniel looked up at him apprehensively. "How limited?" he asked.

"No more than six hours a day for the next week, and I think you should have the rest of today off."

"To do what?" Daniel asked incredulously, looking around the room. Warner looked stymied.

"I'll go get a TV and some movies," Jack said. Daniel looked up at him eyes wide. "Maybe I can get Carter to take some time off, too."

"Jack?" Daniel said. "I don't think Hammond will be okay with that."

"I'll take care of Hammond, Daniel, don't you worry." Jack seemed supremely confident, but two years with his own Jack made Daniel an expert at reading the signs. If his Jack and this Jack had anything in common, he wasn't at all certain that he could 'take care' of Hammond. "So, Dr. Warner, is there anything else?"

"I don't believe so, sir," Warner said.

The door opened and Daniel looked up, half expecting to find Hammond swelling with anger. Instead it was Samantha, who looked very surprised to see the large group of people in the room. She held a tray with eggs and bacon and toast. Warner quickly made excuses and left, trailing technicians and equipment behind him.

Jack put a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "You just had one of those pills from Warner, didn't you?" Daniel nodded. "Good, then I'll be back shortly. Carter, Daniel's not to work today. Stay with him and keep him entertained."

He left and Samantha put the tray down, eyes wide. "What did he mean by that?"

"Warner wants me to take today off," Daniel said. "Jack said he'd take care of Hammond." He wasn't reassured to see that she was as apprehensive as he was. She smoothed her reaction away so quickly that he might not have seen it had he not been watching.

"Well, you certainly need to eat your breakfast before anything else," she said briskly and settled down next to him.

"Right," he said slowly and he looked down at the food. It wasn't appealing at the moment. The thought that they might be drugging him through his food was an effective appetite suppressant, but it wasn't as if he could stop eating and drinking. If he tried, they'd probably do something drastic, and that was not something he needed to court.

He tried to keep up a light conversation with Samantha without much luck. After awhile, she stopped talking and they sat silently while he ate. Jack was gone the better part of forty-five minutes, so they played chess when he finished breakfast. She won twice.

"Daniel, are you okay?" she asked.

"Sorry, Samantha, I –" He was saved from having to answer by the door opening. Jack came in fairly radiating anger. Daniel froze.

"Carter, you're going to have to go back to work. Hammond wants to see some of the results from your experiments today."

"Yes sir," she said and left quickly, taking the empty tray with her.

Jack turned towards Daniel who waited apprehensively for what he was going to say. His eyes were narrow, his expression stern. "Daniel, you have the day off, and Warner's orders stand as far as your work schedule goes," he said harshly. Daniel blinked. The tone and the words didn't seem to match. Jack went on, his voice hard, his expression distant. "You're not to work more than six hours a day, but those six hours had better be productive." This was sounding rather a lot like Hammond's orders, and Daniel wondered how that meeting had gone. He couldn't ask, though.

"Yes Jack," Daniel said.

"I'll have some airmen bring you a television with a VCR and some movies." Jack crossed his arms and pursed his lips. "Someone will bring you lunch later on. It won't be me or Lt. Carter, Hammond says he has better uses for our time."

"So, is that from now on?" Daniel asked nervously. "Won't I see you anymore?"

Jack grinned tightly. "No, I'll be back with dinner. Just . . . during the day he wants us to do our own work."

"I see," Daniel said. "That makes sense."

"So, I'd better get going now," Jack said. He walked over and squeezed Daniel's shoulders instead, though. "Everything's going to be okay, Danny."

Daniel closed his eyes and swallowed. There were minefields all over the place today. "I know, Jack," he said. "I know you'll take care of things."

"I always do, don't I, Danny?"

Fortunately, this didn't seem to require a reply. Jack squeezed once more and left the room. Daniel felt very shaky. He guessed that Jack had just pushed his luck with Hammond and gotten told off. He wondered if and how soon he would get a visit from Hammond himself. He'd just as soon never see that Hammond again, but he didn't think he was that lucky.

Warner had left behind a device that permitted him to shower without wetting the cast, so he put it on and took a shower. It was decidedly awkward with one arm out of commission. While he was getting cleaned up, the outer door opened. He ignored it, hoping it was just the airmen with the television. After awhile the door opened and closed again, so he assumed that was the case. He got himself dressed in pajama pants and a black t-shirt, since they were the easiest to put on without using both hands. Buttons would take some effort, and since he wasn't working today, he hoped that wouldn't be a problem.

He walked out into the main room and stopped dead. Hammond was there. So was Berman. So was the TV. They had evidently entered at roughly the same time. To his relief, Coburn wasn't present. Daniel wet his lips nervously, wondering what was expected.

"Please, Dr. Jackson, come and sit down," Hammond said, gesturing at the guest chair.

Daniel didn't move immediately, and Hammond raised an eyebrow eloquently, glancing at the cast on Daniel's arm. He set his jaw and walked to the chair. Sitting down, he said, "Good morning, general."

"Good morning." There was a pause and Daniel looked over at the tray that contained the coffee carafe and several cups. "Can I offer you some coffee, sir?"

"I would like that very much," Hammond said, smiling.

His teeth clenched, Daniel stood up again, because neither the tray nor the carafe was easily reached from where he was sitting. He poured two cups of coffee one-handed and looked up. "Would you like cream or sugar?" he asked.

"No, thank you, Dr. Jackson." Daniel carried the cup around to the general then went back for his own, finally sitting back down. They both drank and then Hammond cleared his throat. "I told you we'd have a few little talks about my expectations." Daniel nodded. "Since you're not working today, due to your injury, I thought now would be a good opportunity."

"That makes sense," he said.

"I'm glad you agree," Hammond said with a malicious smile. Daniel shivered, and his breakfast was seriously contemplating coming up. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, you are proving to be a very productive translator, when you're not indulging in tantrums, that is."

"Thank you," Daniel said. What else could he say? _I don't think being angry because you put a bomb inside me could be termed a tantrum. I want to go back to my own reality. My Jack is going to show up and eat you for lunch._ None of those seemed like great options.

"Now, I mentioned the fact that I would be sending you on offworld assignments." Daniel nodded. "I understand that you will have certain objections to our more aggressive tactics for acquiring alien technology, but you will have to repress those objections. I don't know how the SGC was run where you come from, and frankly I don't care. I expect my teams to go out there and get the technology, whatever it takes, and that includes extreme measures."

Daniel blinked. "Extreme measures? Would that mean sneaking in at night and stealing the stuff?" He knew perfectly well what Hammond meant, he just wanted the man to come out and say it.

Hammond smiled. "It could. I was actually thinking more along the lines of killing the inhabitants and taking what we need, but theft would be an option in a more technologically advanced culture, or in one where our numbers are grossly outmatched."

Daniel felt his insides contract. "Are you saying that killing is the _preferred_ option?"

Hammond's smile broadened into an extraordinarily creepy grin. "That's where you come in, Dr. Jackson. If you can persuade the natives of whatever world you're on to part with their technology without contest, then we won't have to kill anybody."

"I see." Daniel put his cup down and clenched his right fist in his lap.

"So, I'm sure I can expect nothing less that your strongest effort on any and all missions I send you on, right, Dr. Jackson?"

"Of course, sir," Daniel said, feeling stunned and numb. _Don't put any pressure on me or anything,_ he thought unhappily.

"I'll let you absorb that information for awhile and then we'll have another little talk," Hammond said, standing up. Daniel stood as well. "I had the airmen set up the TV so you could watch it from your bed. I hope that's all right with you."

"Yes sir, thank you, sir," Daniel said.

"Good boy," Hammond replied, that creepy grin still in place as he left the room. Daniel collapsed back into his chair and buried his face in his hand. What was he going to do?


	16. Chapter 16

**_Thursday, April 22  
_ Reality ** **A001**

After leaving Daniel's room, Samantha settled down in her lab and got straight to work. From the colonel's expression and his words, she had a feeling that Hammond had been angry about the amount of time they'd spent on this Daniel. It didn't make a lot of sense to her. Keeping this Daniel happy would help more than it would hurt, she'd think.

She'd never understand Hammond. How that man could think it was a good idea to drug nearly the entire staff of the SGC was beyond her.

She worked for about three hours solidly without interruption, then someone cleared his throat from the doorway. She turned and saw Colonel O'Neill leaning against the doorframe. "Hey Samantha," he said.

"Hi!" she said. "Come in." It was difficult, but she managed to bite off the 'sir' that came automatically to her lips.

"I didn't want to interrupt anything," he said, walking forward.

"I'm at a good pausing point," she said, and he swung the door shut. Her eyes widened as he walked over and put his arms around her from behind.

"I'm going to have to cancel dinner tonight, Samantha." His breath tickled her ear slightly. "Hammond doesn't want us to spend too much time on ordinary working days with Daniel, but once the day's over, it's not a problem. I figured I'd eat dinner with him tonight, if you don't mind. You could join us."

"That would be great . . . Jack." She blinked at her own daring. "That would be great."

"Good. It'll be around seven, I think."

"Shall I meet you there, or do you want me to pick up Daniel's food?"

"Just show up, Samantha," he said, then squeezed her gently and left. It was very startling. There had never been any physical contact between them that wasn't strictly necessary within the confines of their missions and training exercises.

She shook her head and returned to work. She had to give Hammond nothing to complain about, so he wouldn't cause any further problems for them.

When evening came they all ate in Daniel's room, hamburgers, clearly specially made for the occasion because she'd checked the menu for today. Tuna casserole or spaghetti. Not big juicy hamburgers with lots of fresh topping options, fat crisp french fries and green salad. Or followed up by rich chocolate cake.

Daniel clearly reveled in the special food, and Samantha was glad to see him smiling. He and the colonel talked pleasantly for awhile, but after a time she could see how Daniel kept catching himself before he spoke. His tension rose gradually as the evening progressed. She sighed. They had to get him home, but she didn't see how it could be managed. Not yet, anyway.

She went home that night feeling depressed and angry. Both emotions were perfectly appropriate to her situation, but she knew she was being influenced from outside. She needed desperately to stay calm, cool and focused. Going out into her backyard, she ran through a series of tai chi exercises. After about an hour she was much calmer, much more grounded, and as she went in to bed, she resolved to start doing it regularly.

* * *

_**Friday, April 23** _

In the morning, Samantha woke up feeling much more rested than she'd felt for months, much more able to face the coming day, which was a good thing because it was a gloomy morning with tall thunderheads. An atmosphere better designed to encourage tension and depression could hardly be found.

She reached the base and headed into the locker room where she started to get changed. She put her purse down on the bench and started undoing her top as she twirled the combination on her locker.

"Good morning, Carter," said a voice behind her, and she turned to see Lt. Angie Thomas doing up the front of her blue uniform blouse. Her dark hair hadn't yet been caught up in its customary bun, and she looked sort of odd. Samantha couldn't place just why until the other woman picked up her glasses and settled them on her nose.

"Good morning," Samantha said, smiling. "Haven't seen you in a few days. How's life treating you?"

"Not bad. Had a leave coming, so I took it."

Sam nodded. "Good for you," she said, and turned back to her locker.

"Yeah, I just hope that the records room is still in one piece when I get back. I guess Sheila got sick, so it's just been the guys in there for nearly a week."

Samantha stilled slightly, staring blankly at the little scrap of white that resided atop her neatly folded uniform. Angie started talking about what she'd done on her leave, and Sam paid very little attention, only making encouraging sounds whenever it seemed appropriate. She got dressed quickly and managed to unobtrusively tuck the note into the hip pocket of her fatigue pants, wondering what Maybourne wanted now.

As she turned to go, Angie said, "Maybe you should come next time we go, Samantha."

Since Samantha didn't have the foggiest idea what she'd said, she cast around for a vague reply. "I don't know if I'll be able to, but I'll think about it," she said. "See you later."

"Sure!" Angie called as Samantha left the room.

When she got to her lab, she sat down and pulled out the note. All it said was, "The usual place, five hours early."

She glanced at the clock. It was just eight now, so that meant she had an hour. Daniel had probably already had his breakfast and was going to start his shortened day soon. The colonel had warned Daniel the night before that they might not see him much today, but that they'd be in on Saturday for certain. She hoped he was okay. This sudden distance that Hammond had forced between them couldn't be good for his morale.

She rushed through her morning work, then made her way to the bathroom to go out of phase and meet with Maybourne. The man was waiting for her with two cups of coffee held in his hands. "Good morning, lieutenant."

"Good morning, sir," she said, taking the cup he offered and hitching herself up so that she was sitting on the desk.

"You seem a good deal more yourself this morning," he said.

She shrugged. "What do you need? I have to get back to work. Hammond's breathing down our necks. He thinks we're not spending enough time on our work."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up sheaf of parchment pages. "This is the message you need to give Dr. Jackson. It's hidden amongst other texts that will look authentic, and it was written by a native speaker of Goa'uld. They have a Jaffa as one of the members of SG-1."

Her eyes widened. "Really? And they trust him?"

"Implicitly, from the looks of things. He was part of the meeting with O'Neill, Hammond and . . . and Captain Carter."

Samantha's lips tightened. It was very hard to calmly contemplate a Samantha Carter who hadn't dealt with all the insanity that went on in her reality. One who hadn't been demoted for being able to see what others couldn't. One who wasn't regularly drugged without her knowledge. One whose commanding officer presumably wasn't a lunatic. One whose Daniel wasn't dead.

That brought her out of her self pity quickly. They had her Daniel, and they hadn't treated him well. She had no right to begrudge this woman her good fortune. She took the rolled up parchment. "What does it say?"

"Among other things that I am to be trusted." She tilted her head curiously as he looked slightly disturbed. "Apparently their Maybourne is a jackass of the first order, and this Daniel would probably run at the sight of me without some kind of reassurance."

"How odd," she said, shaking her head. "So, what is the plan at the moment?"

He grimaced. "I don't really have one. Hammond has to be gotten rid of, but that will be difficult with the president so firmly on his side. I have reasonably good intelligence that the Senate is going to impeach him very soon, but they have to wait till they have the votes to get him out completely or it will be a long, messy fight."

Samantha nodded, remembering the riots they'd had the last time the Senate had tried to impeach a president. It had come close to civil war for awhile in the east, but that was way back in the sixties. Things had improved since then, but there would still be serious unrest. President Kinsey had his supporters, and they were a militant bunch, almost by definition.

"Well, I do need to get back to work," she said, turning to go. "I'll get this to Daniel at my first opportunity."

"I've arranged for something in Goa'uld to be released in Hammond's direction this afternoon, so he should want it sent in to Dr. Jackson as soon as he gets it. All you have to do is find a way to be the person who takes it in to him."

"When this afternoon should he get it?"

"Around two," Maybourne said.

She bit her lip, considering it. "Well, if there's nothing else right now . . ." He shook his head. "Thanks for the coffee, and I do have to get back."

"Take care of yourself, Samantha," he said as she headed towards the door. She turned, surprised, but he was looking away.

"See you later," she said, and went out.

The day passed fairly quickly, almost too quickly, really. She planned carefully to have a reason to be near Hammond's office for about forty-five minutes around two o'clock. She was nearing the end of the task she'd set up for herself and was wondering what else she could do to keep herself handy when a courier showed up. About ten minutes after he left, Hammond came boiling out of his office. He saw her and snapped, "Carter, over here, now." Relieved, she took the papers he handed her. "Take these to Dr. Jackson and tell him I want them translated by noon tomorrow at the latest."

"Yes, sir," she said, snapping him a salute. She hurried away and in the elevator she slipped the extra pages into the sheaf. When she arrived at Daniel's room, she hoped her manner didn't give away that she had a secret, or that if it did, they'd put it down to the 'relationship' she was supposedly having with Colonel O'Neill.

Daniel looked up, his eyes somewhat shadowed, but a grin lit his face when he saw her. "Samantha, how are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling at him. Then she put down the sheaf of papers. "Hammond asked me to bring these to you. He wants them translated by noon tomorrow."

"I see," he said, pulling them closer.

She leaned on the desk and tapped on the edge of the parchment that was extra. "Take extra care," she said. "And I'll see you tomorrow morning, I hope."

He smiled, and she gave his shoulders a quick squeeze as she left.

* * *

Daniel looked down at the new folder. Great, another sudden new project. He hoped devoutly that this one wasn't as wretched as the last one. He didn't have any idea what Hammond might decide to break next if he refused another translation. Sighing, he gathered up the project he'd been working on most recently and tucked it out of the way in a desk drawer. Then he spread out the sheaf he'd just received and started trying to work out what he was looking at.

The first thing he noticed was that there were two different writers, and from the looks of it, two distinct texts. He carefully separated them and looked closely at each of them. The paper was also different . . . the differences in both writing and materials were subtle, but they were there. As he looked them over, something struck him suddenly, with the force of a blow. The writing on one of them was dramatically familiar.

Was this written by the Teal'c of this reality? He started scanning through it and saw something that made his eyes freeze. His name, written in Goa'uld.

He went back to the top of the page and read slowly and carefully what was written there.

In a time that was long ago, in a place that was far away, there lived a young Jaffa who longed to prove himself . . .

Daniel could hear Teal'c's voice telling the tale. It hadn't been more than three weeks since he'd gotten the Jaffa to tell him a folk tale, and he had already transcribed it once from Teal'c's words. This couldn't be what he thought it was, could it? A message from home? Samantha had very carefully tapped this specific page when she told him to take extra care.

His heart was beating hard, and he found that his mouth was dry. He started writing out a translation of the first paragraph. It was written in a particularly archaic form of the language. Then he got to a section that read very differently.

Daniel Jackson, this is your friend Teal'c, from your reality. You were taken from us on the fifth of April, and we are seeking a way to get you back.

Then it segued back into the story for several paragraphs, and Daniel filled in the missing section that the beginning of the note took the place of. He couldn't believe what he had in his hands. Samantha had brought him a letter from home. How was that possible? That she had done it deliberately seemed certain, but he had difficulty imagining how she could have managed it.

He cobbled the note together mentally since he couldn't very well write it out.

We realized very quickly that the Daniel Jackson that has been left here was not you. Rest assured, he is well and will recover completely. We are seeking a way to bring you home, and will not rest until we find one.

It was definitely Teal'c's style of prose, Daniel reflected as he read.

Someone from the reality you currently reside in has contacted us and has promised to help us retrieve you, but he says it may take some time. This ally is the Maybourne from that reality, and he seems to be a man of honor and courage.

There is one thing you must know. The people on the base you are in are regularly given drugs to alter their moods and behaviors. This is done without their knowledge. The O'Neill there is given drugs to boost his aggression.

You must remain alive until we can reach you, so do what is asked of you. O'Neill is most emphatic on this point. He has asked repeatedly that I tell you something very specific, so I have translated it. "Do not permit your unwise equine beast of burden to be terminated." I told him it would not translate well, but he was insistent.

Daniel read that sentence again, carefully, and closed his eyes to repress the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. That was Jack all right. 'Don't get your fool ass killed.' He could hear him saying it, see him pointing at the paper and telling Teal'c to write it.

He wanted to go home! But now . . . now he knew for certain that they were trying. Now he knew that they had a chance, with help from Samantha and the Maybourne from this reality, of getting him back. He got up and went into the bathroom, where he could sit and think and odd expressions would go unremarked upon.

_Don't get yourself killed. If only it were that easy._ His Jack would be furious, but there were things Daniel simply couldn't do. Like help this Hammond plan an attack that would kill a thousand or so innocent Jaffa. The people here were people and he couldn't treat them as anything less without becoming someone other than who he was. Sometimes Jack didn't understand that.

He considered the information regarding the drugs and resolved to be even more submissive around Jack, though he could overdo that. If he got too passive, it might make Jack just as angry. It was a difficult balance to find and keep. Though if there was enough provocation from elsewhere, Daniel might not be able to do anything to keep the balance.

He grimaced, thinking of the Hammond in this reality. What wouldn't that man do? Drugging his staff, killing innocent people whose only crime was wanting to hang onto their own technology, implanting bombs in people to control them . . . was Daniel the first or simply the next in a long line of people to be so favored?

The question was, had Hammond started drugging him? Was he getting something in his coffee or in his food to keep him passive? How did he drug the others? It couldn't be through food . . . it would be too difficult to make sure that the right person got the right drug.

Daniel shook his head and stood up. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands. He didn't have time or energy to waste on wondering about that, and it hardly mattered. He needed to focus on staying alive and in one piece so he'd be here to rescue when they managed it.

As he went back to his desk and continued to transcribe the folk tale, filling in the pieces Teal'c had left out in order to send the message. The fact that they needed him so very badly was a sure hint that they didn't have anyone else capable of translating it.

Then he got to work on the other text, the one that Hammond wanted. It was an intelligence report on the activities of a Goa'uld Daniel had never run into in his reality, Narsis, who, it seemed, was gearing up for an assault on a base this SGC had on P4X-391. He was also readying to attack a planet listed as P4L-387. It had lots of resources and a society that sounded roughly Renaissance level in technology. He didn't see any references to anything that Hammond would find appealing, so maybe they'd focus on the Goa'uld and ignore the natives in this case.

Food came at noon as always, and Daniel ate absent-mindedly. It was fascinating to read about a culture that had risen so high in technology, but still had many of the features of its ancient Grecian origins. He did, however, remember the timeline. He had a very powerful reminder in the stiff cast on his left arm.

Around one o'clock, he finished the translation, but was at a loss as to how to let anyone know the fact. He stood up, glanced sourly up at the ceiling and said, "I'm done. I was asked to do it as quickly as possible, so I figure the general probably wants it soon."

Within moments, the door opened and an airman came in. "Sir, someone with more clearance will be along to collect it in about fifteen minutes."

Daniel smiled at him. "Thank you." His eyes darted to the name tag. "Airman Wilson, thank you very much."

Wilson nodded and stepped back out of the room. Daniel put the folder containing both translations and both original texts aside and pulled out the project he had been working on. Ten minutes later Jack came in. "Hammond sent me for –" Daniel pointed and Jack broke off. "Ah, good. Thanks, Danny." He was gone again as quickly as he'd come. Daniel shrugged and focused on his project. He only had about an hour of permissible working time left, so he had to make it count.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Friday, April 23  
_ Reality ** **L583**

Jack slotted his key into the deadbolt on Daniel's door, but it turned too easily. The door wasn't locked, and Jack knew he'd locked it when he left the last time. He listened and could hear the sound of someone moving around inside. Sliding his gun out of its holster, he eased the door open and crept in. There were definitely footsteps in the living room. He crossed the hall in several quick steps and turned the corner, gun raised.

He came face to face with another gun. For a long moment they stared at each other and then he clicked the safety back on and shoved his gun in its holster again. "Don't _do_ that!" he exclaimed.

Carter was standing there with a container of fish food in one hand and her gun in the other. The fish food was pouring unheeded into the tank by the tablespoon. "What?" she said, lowering her gun. Then she glanced at the hand with the fish food and let out a dismayed cry and righted the little canisters. "Hell! Look what you made me do! Daniel will never forgive me if I kill his fish. Help me get it out of there!" He stared at her as she seized the fish net and started sifting through the tank. "They're already eating!"

"Aren't they supposed to eat?" he asked, squatting and opening a cupboard under the tank.

"Sir, they're like horses! They'll eat too much and founder."

He paused in pulling out the two smaller tanks Daniel put the fish in when he was cleaning the big tank. "Shouldn't that be 'flounder'?" he asked.

"This isn't funny, sir!" she exclaimed.

He reached in and pulled out several gallons of distilled water and dumped them into the smaller tanks. "Here, Carter, you're going about it the wrong way. Get the food out of the net and start transferring fish."

She looked down at him and blinked. "Oh. Of course. That makes sense." And, looking somewhat less manic, she started shifting the fish. He reached into the cupboard again and pulled out the aerators for the smaller tanks and put them in place. Then he waited for Carter to finish.

"I've been here when Daniel did this before, so don't worry. It will be okay. It'll just take the rest of the day."

She sat on the sofa watching while he got the filters set up and said, "Thanks, sir. Sorry, I really wasn't expecting you. I've been coming in to feed the fish once a week since he went missing, so I –"

"You have?" Jack asked. "So have I. It's a wonder those fish aren't already floundering. I didn't know you had a key."

She flushed. "I don't. I . . . I sort of talked the super into letting me in."

He snorted. "You have been here before, haven't you?"

"A few times," she said defensively. Then she gave him a guilty grin. "And I helped him fix the boiler once."

"Ahh, I see. Only you, Carter." He grinned. "Let me guess, you did all the work, while Daniel stood around making unhelpful comments and expounding on the history of plumbing, making the super laugh and mutter occasional curses under his breath."

She laughed. "Just about," she said. Almost immediately she sobered. "I miss him."

He sat down in a chair nearby. "Me too, Carter, me too."

After that they sat silently in Daniel's apartment with Daniel's fish, waiting for Daniel's fish tank to clean itself. Abruptly both of them got up and turned away from the fish tank. She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked.

Jack contemplated the last time they'd been in Daniel's apartment without Daniel and shuddered. "I don't want to see any bubbles, that's all I'll say."

She nodded fervently. "How about we go in the kitchen and I'll fix us some soup. I haven't had dinner yet."

"Sure," Jack said. "Just nothing that requires milk. I cleaned out the fridge after the first week."

"I wondered about that," she said. "I looked in the refrigerator, thinking I'd take care of that, but there wasn't anything urgent there. I thought maybe Daniel just didn't have much."

"No, he had the normal stuff, but we have an agreement. If either of us goes missing, the other one takes care of the stuff that the cleaning service won't so we don't come home to a disaster."

"Oh," she said, eyes widening. "I have a neighbor who takes care of that for me. If she doesn't see my car for a few days, she starts collecting my mail and stuff. I told her that my job sometimes requires sudden field trips with no warning."

"I see," he said. "When we're both gone, it just pretty much goes to hell, but I don't really want my neighbors looking after my place. Elderly women are a little too nosey for my tastes."

She chuckled and pulled down a can of vegetable soup. There were some dinner rolls in the freezer, so Jack pulled a couple out and stuck them in the oven to heat up. They ate dinner and talked, and Jack reflected that it was too bad he hadn't brought Teal'c out with him.

Of course if Teal'c were present that would just bring home how very incomplete they were as a group.

* * *

**Reality A001**

Samantha looked up at the clock. It was nearly six fifteen. The colonel had told her to expect him at her lab around six, so she had begun to wonder where he was. If anything, O'Neill was usually early rather than late.

She had drawn her work to a stopping point and changed into civvies in anticipation of his arrival, and despite the delay, she didn't think she wanted to start anything now. If the colonel showed up, she didn't want to be in the middle of something. As the minutes ticked by, though, she began to worry. Had something come up?

The phone rang and she picked it up. "Carter."

"Sorry, lieutenant, but I've been called into an emergency meeting with General Hammond," O'Neill said without preamble. "Why don't you go spend some time with Daniel now that you're both off duty."

"Sure," she said, wondering what the emergency was. "What's up, sir?" she asked.

"Nothing to worry about, lieutenant."

"All right, sir." She hung up the phone and went to Daniel's room where she found him reading a book. He was lying on his back on the bed and looking depressed, already in his pajama pants and a t-shirt.

When she came in, he looked up and smiled. "Hi, Samantha," he said, shifting awkwardly into a sitting position. "I wasn't expecting you tonight." His tone was light, but she sensed a deeper tension in him.

She walked further into the room and put her purse down on the desk. "My plans were canceled, but I'd already shut everything down, so I thought I'd come see how you were."

He leaned forward and his glasses slipped down his nose, and he gazed at her for a long moment over them. "How I am?" he asked, sounding very dry. "As Jack would say, just peachy."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I wish there was more I could do."

He shrugged. "Come sit down for awhile. We could watch a movie. _Snow White? Cinderella?_ Or we could be really daring and watch _True Grit."_

"Disney or John Wayne . . ." she said slowly, walking over. "That's an interesting selection. Did Colonel O'Neill pick it out?"

"I have no idea. They were just on the cart with the VCR when it got here."

"Have you watched them?"

"All three of them, yesterday," Daniel said. "There wasn't much else to do, and I find reading the books here to be somewhat disturbing on occasion."

She sat down. "How so?"

"Well, there are changes, subtle shifts in perspective and bias that grate on my nerves. Like, for instance, there's a distinct absence of the strong feminist movement that swept our United States in the twentieth century. It's there in small ways, but not to the extent that I would expect."

"Feminist movement?" she repeated in puzzlement. "They wanted people to be more feminine?"

His jaw actually dropped and she seemed to have struck him speechless. He stared at her for several seconds, then said, "Women's liberation. Equal rights. Equal pay for equal work. Any of this ringing a bell?"

"Liberation from what? Are you saying that women were slaves in that reality?"

He blinked. "Masculine oppression."

It was her turn to stare. "Masculine oppression?" she repeated incredulously. "Wow."

"Yeah, so there are references all through the books on sociology and anthropology that don't quite jibe with what I'm expecting. And there are works that are altogether missing. There's nothing here by Jane Goodall, for example, or Dian Fossey."

"Who are they?" Samantha asked curiously and Daniel just shook his head.

"In my reality, you wouldn't need to ask that. You'd know." She raised an eyebrow and he sighed. "Both of them were scientists working with primates. Fossey worked with gorillas, Goodall with chimpanzees. Their work touches on anthropology in fairly significant ways."

"So you'd expect to find their books on these shelves?" she asked.

"Exactly. Or references to them in bibliographies at the very least, but there's nothing. Half the female names I expect to find aren't there, and the other half are under published. At least one book in here . . ." He looked around. "I don't see it right now, but the same book, same title, same thesis – same cover art – was published by a woman in my reality. I have a feeling this one was either stolen or lent so that it would be published and given credence."

"Weird. That must throw you off sometimes."

"It does, but I can manage." Pointing to his head, he said, "The ideas are here, many of the books are here. I just like to have the written text for reference."

She nodded. "I know what you mean."

"Anyway, shall it be Cinderella or Snow White?"

"Are those any different?"

"Than the movie versions of those stories in my reality?" Daniel asked and she nodded. "I don't know. I've never seen them."

She found that a little startling, but tried not to show it. She knew very little about her own Daniel's background, and even less about this man's. "Let's go with Cinderella. I like the mice."

"They're fun," he agreed and she got up and popped the tape in.

The movie was long over and they were discussing the social significance of the behavior of the mice when the door opened and Colonel O'Neill strode in, his expression very serious. Daniel stiffened very slightly at the sight of the colonel. O'Neill walked over and knelt down in front of Daniel. "Danny, I need you to answer a question for me, as honestly as you can."

Daniel licked his lips. "Sure, Jack, what?"

"That folk tale translation . . . are you absolutely certain that you translated it correctly?"

She was looking at Daniel and the colonel, stunned by the question, hoping it didn't mean what she was afraid it meant. Had they been discovered? Was Maybourne actually a plant? She strove to keep her expression neutral.

In her concentration, she didn't immediately notice that the door hadn't closed behind O'Neill. She only glanced over when she saw Daniel's eyes widen. The general had stepped inside, accompanied by his bodyguard, Lt. Berman.

Daniel gulped, color draining from his face as he looked up at the colonel. "Of course I am, Jack. I wouldn't have given it to you if I wasn't confident that it was accurate."

"I told you that's what he'd say, colonel," the general said, walking forward and sitting down in the desk chair. "Dr. Jackson, come over here."

Daniel had this incredibly frozen look about him, but he pushed past O'Neill and walked over to the chair beside the desk. "Good evening, general," he said woodenly. Samantha glanced up at the colonel's face and saw an expression there that made her shiver. He was glaring at Hammond with a cold hatred that was terrifying. She didn't like the change that had come over Daniel in the past few minutes either, and she prayed that Hammond hadn't discovered the truth. Daniel would pay dearly if he had.

"Good evening, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said. "Now, I know you have moral concerns about what we do around here, you've made that abundantly clear."

Samantha was having trouble working out how to react. She couldn't figure out where the general was going, but whatever he was on about didn't seem to be remotely connected to the document she had slipped to Daniel.

"Yes, general," Daniel said after a brief pause.

"But I want you to think very hard about this." He tapped a file on the desk, and she realized that they had the letter with them. "Was there anything in this second document that concerned the settlement on P4L-387?"

She saw Daniel's eyes widen. "No, sir," he said immediately. "It was simply a Jaffa folk tale."

Hammond looked up at Berman. "Tell them to bring the prisoner here." Berman went to the door and Samantha shifted forward, standing up. She darted a look at O'Neill, but he looked stoically angry. Hammond started speaking again, drawing her attention back to him. "It just so happens that I have recently acquired a prisoner that can read and write in Goa'uld," he said. Daniel's eyes widened further and she felt her own heart stop. "You may wonder why I need you if that's the case, but you can decipher many more languages than Goa'uld, and I don't believe I can rely on him as readily as I can rely on you. However, I think he will be willing, with the right persuasion, to tell me what this document contains." He paused, gazing at Daniel. "Would you like to alter your statement in any way? If you do so now, no punishment will be meted out, but if you make me find it out from someone else . . ." Daniel shook his head, expression neutral, though his eyes were alive with anxiety.

The minutes went by like hours while they waited for this prisoner to appear. Samantha wasn't sure what Hammond was talking about. She hadn't heard anything about a prisoner who could speak Goa'uld.

Finally the door opened and an enormous black man was brought in. He had a gold-filled tattoo on his forehead that marked him as first prime of Apophis, and his hair was cropped close to his head. He was wearing the simple blue jumpsuit that they dressed prisoners in, and both his wrists and ankles were heavily shackled. Daniel stared at the Jaffa, eyes wide and stunned. Samantha gulped, knowing they were about to be found out. What he thought Daniel had done would be nothing compared to what she and Maybourne had actually done.

Hammond stood up and picked up the file. "Teal'c," he said. "I want you to look at this document and tell me what it contains. You don't have to give me details, but I want to know what it is."

The Jaffa's eyes narrowed. "I will not," he said. His voice was deep and sonorous, and full of grim determination.

"Think of Ryac, Teal'c," Hammond said, his voice grown menacing.

An anxious, desperate look took over Teal'c's eyes at those words, and he nodded. Hammond showed him the file. Chains rattled as Teal'c flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the writing. Samantha wondered what he was thinking as he read those words. She realized abruptly that she had no clear notion of what the letter contained. But she sincerely doubted that it remotely resembled a folk tale. Tension filled the air, and she waited for the Jaffa to damn them with the truth. His expression did not change as he read, his eyes flicking back and forth. The colonel shifted uneasily. Hammond would be livid, but that would be nothing on O'Neill if his insanity was in the ascendant.

The Jaffa looked up and, without changing expression, he said, "It is a simple folk tale. I have told it to Ryac often enough that he knows it to the word. The only difference is that when I tell it, the god is Apophis."

"The false god," Daniel muttered, obviously not entirely aware that he was speaking aloud.

"Indeed," Teal'c said, nodding gracefully.

Hammond, however, was furious. He turned on Daniel with a wrathful glower. "I did not give you leave to speak, Jackson!" he snarled. Daniel flinched back, eyes wide with alarm, right fist clenched in his lap. At her side, O'Neill took a step forward. She put a warning hand on his arm. Hammond would not take kindly to interference.

There was a long, tense silence. Samantha glanced over at Teal'c to see how he was reacting. He was looking at her with some sort of speculation in his gaze. Their eyes met briefly, then he looked away. Why had he lied? She didn't for one moment believe that the team in the other reality had, in advance, worked out a code that resembled a Jaffa folk tale so closely that it would fool a Jaffa, particularly not one that covered alternate realities. Therefore, the question remained. Why had Teal'c lied? What was in it for him?

The silence was growing painful. Hammond and Daniel's eyes were locked. The colonel was growing restive, but he hadn't tried to intervene again.

Finally, Daniel broke the tableau. Dropping his eyes, he said, "I'm sorry, sir." A strange, muffled sound emerged from O'Neill, like a very quiet curse.

"And?" Hammond prompted. Daniel's eyes snapped back up and he looked confused, uncertain. "Will it happen again?" Hammond asked, his voice dripping with sweetness.

Daniel's lips tightened mutinously, and she willed him to overcome his pride and just answer the man the way he wanted to be answered. Beside her, the colonel started to move forward again, but she tightened her grip on his arm and he subsided. Several seconds passed, then Daniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No, sir, it won't."

"Good boy," Hammond said in the tone of a man addressing a pet. She saw Daniel's neck and ears flush with anger and humiliation. The colonel was seething but quiet. Hammond turned back towards the Jaffa, whose expression was enigmatic. "You say this is a folk tale?" Hammond asked, gesturing at the file the Jaffa still held. Teal'c nodded. "Does it have a name?"

"I call it 'The –'"

"No!" Hammond barked and Teal'c stopped. "Does it have a real name? An official name?"

"I do not understand," Teal'c said. "My father called it 'The Liar's Reward.' My wife called it 'Jindle's Tale.' I am not sure what you mean when you ask about an official name."

Hammond's lips were pressed together angrily, and Samantha cleared her throat nervously. Four pairs of masculine eyes turned towards her. Daniel turned away instantly, not watching, but the others kept looking at her. "Sir, before they were written down and printed, most folk tales didn't have what you might call an official name. If this story is mostly passed on orally, what they call it might depend on the speaker and their family origins."

Teal'c looked at her curiously. "Do your folk tales have 'official names'?" he asked.

"Some of them do, sort of," she said. "A couple of hundred years ago a couple of linguists got people to tell them oral folk stories in order to hear them speak and write down the way they said words and which words they used. These were later printed, with titles, so those titles have largely stuck."

"I see," the Jaffa said. He would have said more, but Hammond interrupted. "That's neither here nor there, and I didn't bring him in here for you to educate him in our culture, Carter. If I wanted that, I would ask Jackson, not you, in any case."

She flushed and stepped back. Teal'c's eyes roamed the room and then came to rest on Daniel. "This man is a scholar?" he asked.

"Yes," Hammond snapped. "What of it?"

"Why would you treat a scholar in this fashion? It makes no sense."

Daniel looked up anxiously, as if he wanted the Jaffa to stop speaking.

"He is here working under duress, much as you are," Hammond said.

Teal'c's eyes darkened. "Do you hold his child captive, then, and threaten to cripple him if he does not do as you ask?"

Hammond threw a careless glance back at Daniel. "He doesn't have a child. No, he has limbs that he wants to keep unbroken," he said. Teal'c's glance darted towards the sling that cradled Daniel's arm. "And, unless I am very much mistaken, an abiding hatred for the Goa'uld and the Jaffa that make him –"

"Not the Jaffa!" Daniel protested, leaning forward urgently towards Teal'c. "I don't –" He broke off sharply when the back of Hammond's hand slammed into his face, knocking him sideways against the desk. His balance was too far forward, and, with his left arm immobilized, he had no way to catch himself, so he slipped out of the chair and landed hard on his hip. The cast smacked audibly against the concrete.

"I seem to recall you promising not to speak without leave, Dr. Jackson," Hammond thundered at the fallen man.

Very slowly, Daniel sat back up and turned back towards the general. His cheek was red from the blow, and his lip was split. His glasses lay broken on the floor. Eyes flashing with blue fire, he opened his mouth to speak. She coughed abruptly, and he seemed to recall his situation. She watched as he contained his emotions. After a moment, he spoke in a very shaky voice. "You're right, of course, sir. I'm very sorry."

"Now get up, damn you!" Daniel reached out with his right hand to grab the desk top, and this time she couldn't have restrained the colonel if she'd wanted to. He rushed across and helped the injured man up. Hammond ignored them both and turned to Teal'c's guards. "Take him back to his cell." They nodded and took him out. The general's attention fell on her. "Lt. Carter, I don't know why you're here, but you are dismissed."

She nodded and followed them out. Before she left she looked over at the colonel, who gave her an enigmatic look that she interpreted as a request to stay on base and wait for him. That meant that she and Teal'c and Teal'c's guards wound up waiting for the same elevator.

"Why does the bald one hate that man so much?" Teal'c asked the air in front of him.

One of the guards coughed, glanced at her, and said, "That's a long complicated story."

Samantha was surprised that the man answered the question. "I have very little else but time," Teal'c said mildly.

Neither of the guards spoke until the elevator came. "I think you'd better take this car, Lt. Carter. We'll take the next one. I don't think the general would want us taking the prisoner on the same elevator as . . . as you."

Samantha smiled tightly and got on the elevator. She went to her lab and sat down, staring at nothing. So, the general had a Jaffa prisoner whom he was controlling by threatening his child. The guards weren't following protocol, which was fine by her. The Jaffa, despite being threatened with injury to his child, had lied to protect Daniel, and she still didn't know why.

Nothing made sense, and there was nothing she could do. And Daniel was hurt, again.

At least Hammond didn't know the real truth. That would be infinitely worse. She thumped her head down into her hands. This kind of intrigue on top of a regular job was exhausting.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Friday, April 23  
_ Reality ** **A001**

Daniel pulled away from Jack as soon as he reasonably could. He gave the colonel a meaningful look and then glanced at Hammond, who was watching Teal'c and Samantha leave with Teal'c's guards. Jack gave him a look that very clearly said. 'Screw Hammond!' Daniel glared and Jack opened his mouth, then pulled away, looking resigned.

Daniel stood on his own, waiting for Hammond to turn again. He was going to have a fabulous bruise on his face in a couple of hours, and his left shoulder was wrenched from his attempt to catch himself despite the cast and the sling. The door shut with a sullen thump. Hammond stayed with his back to them for a moment, prolonging the agony.

Finally, he turned around. "Not the Jaffa?" he asked mildly. "You don't hate the Jaffa?"

Daniel gulped. "No, I don't." He glanced at Jack, who looked very confused.

"And why not, pray tell?" Hammond asked. "They fight for the Goa'uld, worship them. They're as evil as their masters."

Daniel took a deep breath. "They're enslaved by the Goa'uld and indoctrinated from birth. They have no choice."

"What do you know?" Hammond demanded. "You're not from this reality. You've never seen any Jaffa here besides Teal'c."

"That's true," Daniel said slowly, and Hammond gave him a triumphant look. "But I've done a lot of reading about them, they don't seem all that different from the ones in . . ." He glanced at Jack uneasily. "In the other reality." He cleared his throat. "By the way, Ryac is eleven years old or thereabouts."

Hammond seized him by the shoulders and shoved him down into the chair again. Daniel grimaced and bit down on his reaction as the sharp movement jarred his back and arm. "Be silent!" he growled angrily.

"Eleven?" Jack repeated. "General, is that true?"

"What of it?" Hammond asked. "He is a tool. If he is here, he is not being trained to take up arms against our people."

"That's true, sir, but . . ." Jack shook his head. Daniel sat quietly, watching them. "Using a child as a hostage makes us little better than the Goa'uld."

"O'Neill, you are out of line," Hammond said. His tone was mild, but even Daniel could tell that the general was in a dangerous mood.

Jack stood up very straight, and Daniel sat very still. "Sir, I don't believe it's out of line to express my reservations about our actions," he said stiffly.

"I see." Hammond looked at Daniel for a long moment. He felt his insides contract under that cold regard. Finally, the general turned back to Jack. "Do you have any plans to act on your reservations?"

"Act, sir?" Jack asked. "What do you mean act?"

"I'm no fool, O'Neill, I know that there are plenty of people around here who are loyal to you personally." Daniel blinked. This was taking a turn he hadn't quite expected. Hammond started moving towards Jack. "And I know that you are displeased about other recent developments." Hammond threw a glance at Daniel as he said that last and Jack's jaw tightened.

"You went too far," he snarled. "That bomb is out of line, sir." Daniel bit his lip, his stomach churning. He suddenly wished he hadn't eaten so heartily at dinner.

"Is it?" Hammond asked, his voice soft. "Berman, send for Coburn." Daniel closed his eyes and tried to conceal his shudder. He'd rather not see Coburn again.

The door opened and Daniel heard Berman's voice speaking to the guard outside. "Sir, what are you doing?" Jack asked, still sounding very angry. Daniel looked up. Hammond and Jack were facing off about ten feet away. Daniel really thought it might be better if Jack didn't antagonize the general.

"I do believe you need a reminder of my position and yours." Hammond looked over at Daniel, who stiffened. "And Dr. Jackson's."

Jack looked over at him, and Daniel distinctly saw the fear in his eyes. Infuriated, he growled, "If you touch him again –"

"You will do nothing," Hammond said, cutting Jack off. The colonel clamped his mouth shut in an angry line as the general continued. "There is still that bomb in his chest, colonel." Jack's face went white. "I can use it against you as easily as I can use it against him."

Feeling very cold suddenly, Daniel slipped his right arm under the sling and touched the spot on his left side where the incision had been made. Jack was frozen solid. Great, now he was hostage to Jack's good behavior as well. And heaven only knew what Jack would do, if he'd be angry at Daniel or if he'd get protective . . . this situation just got worse and worse.

The door opened and Coburn came in. Daniel felt his breath catch in his throat, and Jack hastily shook his head. "Sir, I'm not going to do anything. You don't have to –"

Hammond smiled . . . it was a very predatory look. "No, I guess I don't," he said, sounding very pleased with himself. "Coburn, thank you, but you are dismissed." The man saluted and left the room. Daniel hadn't realized he'd stopped breathing until he took a breath in as the door shut. He wondered how he'd cope with seeing his own Coburn again when he got home. Assuming that happened.

Jack had walked over to a wall and was standing facing it. The tension in his shoulders was clear to read. Hammond chuckled. "I'm glad we understand each other, colonel," he said. Glancing at Daniel, he said, "You shouldn't look so frightened, Dr. Jackson. Your value to me just doubled."

Daniel looked away. What the hell were they going to do? What the hell was Samantha doing now? Did she have any ideas? Would she be able to communicate this to his people? Another letter would be too risky, so he'd probably have to live without information.

"Now, Colonel O'Neill, your punishment for tonight's insubordination is simple. You will not be permitted to visit Dr. Jackson again until Monday." Daniel looked quickly at Jack, who was glaring at Hammond. "So, you need to leave."

Jack gave Daniel a helpless look, saluted the general, and walked out of the room, leaving Daniel alone with Hammond and Berman. "I knew you'd have that effect on him," Hammond said, walking over to stand above Daniel. "Your original predecessor in this reality made him weak and sympathetic. You'll do the same thing. I guess it's inevitable." Daniel just looked up at him. There was nothing else he could do. "But in this case it's actually a plus, because this gives me a weakness I can exploit." Hammond grinned at him. "Since you don't legally exist, I can do anything I want with you."

His jaw tight with anger he dared not express, Daniel looked away. The blood on his lip was drying and beginning to itch. He didn't scratch it. He wouldn't, not under Hammond's eye.

"You really do need to remember that, Dr. Jackson, for your own sake." With that, Hammond left, Berman close behind him. Daniel sat in that chair staring at the wall for several long moments, then he shook his head. There was nothing . . . literally nothing he could do to solve this.

After awhile, he got up and went into the bathroom. He cleaned up his mouth and wet one of the washcloths thoroughly with cold water. Applying that to his face, he lay down on the bed.

* * *

When it became clear that nothing further was going to happen, Samantha closed the program that allowed her to access the cameras in Daniel's cell. This was a real pickle. Colonel O'Neill would be furious, but there wasn't a lot they could do. It was true that there were plenty of people who were loyal to him on a personal level, but it was also a fact that all of the people involved in keeping Daniel in that room were Hammond's people.

The door opened and she looked up to see Colonel O'Neill standing there. "Come on, it's time to go," he said. She nodded wordlessly and followed him out of the mountain. They climbed into his truck and he drove them out into the countryside. She wasn't sure what he was doing, where he was going, until they reached a stream. They got out of the truck and wandered down to the noisiest part of the creek and sat down under a tree.

She started off sitting a few inches away, but he reached out his arm and snuggled her close against him. "Easier to talk without being overheard when you're closer," he said in her ear.

She tried to relax, so she'd look like she liked being where she was. It was dark, they were out in the middle of nowhere, and this man was more than half crazy. She knew he hadn't the slightest interest in her in that sense, but it was still alarming. "Yes, sir," she said.

"Jack."

Biting her lip, she nodded. "Yes, Jack, then."

"Good. Now, I know you were watching. What happened after I left?"

She described Hammond's behavior, and as she repeated Hammond's words about Daniel's lack of legal existence making him vulnerable, Samantha could sense the colonel tensing with anger. "And then Hammond left, and Daniel got cleaned up and went to bed. He was pretty freaked, I think."

"I should think so," Jack said. He was silent for a long moment. As the minutes passed, she began to wonder what he was thinking, why they were here. Finally, he took a deep, shaky breath and said, "There's something wrong with me, isn't there?"

She blinked, hardly believing what she was hearing. "Sir?"

"That man, that Daniel, that isn't Danny, is it?"

"No, sir, it's not," she said, her voice trembling, hoping she was taking the right tack.

"What's wrong with me? Why does my perception of reality keep shifting?"

"I'm not entirely sure, sir," she said. He sounded heartbreakingly uncertain, but she didn't dare tell him the whole truth. He was unstable and unpredictable. "I think you might be being drugged, but I can't be altogether certain."

He nodded. She couldn't see him, but she could feel his chin moving above her head.

"I think there's something wrong with a lot of people around the SGC, sir. Me included."

"I . . ." He paused and she drew away to look into his face. She'd never seen him looking so unsure of himself. "I don't know how long this will last, Samantha," he said. "My understanding of the world seems pretty fluid these days."

"That's okay, sir," she said softly. "Just remember, you need to protect Daniel. He's an innocent pawn in all of this."

"Right," he said. They were silent for a moment. "Samantha, you were right."

She blinked. "Sir?"

"About Danny and . . . you were right. Obviously." Tears began to flow from his eyes. His whole body was shaking with emotion. "I killed him."

She held him, utterly astonished by this development. He wept like a child on her shoulder, and she rocked him, trying to guess what this could mean for the future. If this new realization did last, what did it mean for the Daniel they had captive?

The colonel stopped crying after awhile, and they were silent. Finally, his head still on her shoulder, he said, "Hammond has to be gotten rid of. You heard what he threatened to do to Danny." She tried not to let her dismay show in her body, but she must have stiffened. Fortunately, O'Neill took it for a reaction to his mentioning Hammond's threat. "I don't think I can wangle something to make him legally alive again, but maybe we should find some allies. The two of us can't manage this alone, and I can't be seen doing anything out of line."

"Right," she said. This was one hell of a roller coaster ride. "I'll see what I can manage." How he'd feel about the allies she'd already gained she couldn't guess. Siler he wouldn't mind, but Maybourne? She wondered if the Jaffa, Teal'c, would help for a promise of freedom. If it came to a battle in the base, they'd need every trained fighter they could get. She shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself. He might yet be loyal to some Goa'uld. He had been First Prime of Apophis, after all.

"Good. And Samantha?" He drew back to meet her eyes. "Thank you. I couldn't do this without you. I would have attacked Hammond if you hadn't stopped me." He shook his head. "What he would have done to Danny for that . . . I don't even want to contemplate."

She shook her head. "No, me neither."

"So, you're going to have to find an excuse to go in and see Danny tomorrow, since I'm not allowed to. Make sure nothing more has happened to him."

"Yes Jack," she said. "We'd better be getting home."

"If we're being watched, there are certain things an observer would expect from a man and a woman who sought out a private spot in the wilderness late at night," the colonel said. Her eyes widened, but she knew he was right. Feeling a little awkward, she leaned in and kissed him. His hands were warm on her back, and one of them slid up into her hair.

There weren't exactly rockets and explosions, but once she lost her tension it was surprisingly pleasant. They made out for awhile, and then he helped her up. They went back to the truck and he opened the door for her.

"Are we going back to the base so I can get my car?" she asked.

"No, Samantha. We're going back to my place."

Samantha blinked at him. "I don't think so, sir." He raised his eyebrows. She grinned. "I may be cheap, but I'm not easy."

He looked vaguely taken aback at this comment. "Well, lieutenant, I'm sorry my courting doesn't live up to your expectations. What's your suggestion?"

"I think you should take me to my house, come in for about a half hour, then go home, looking disappointed. Then, in the morning, you can come pick me up to take me in to work."

"I have to look disappointed?" he asked.

"This charade was your idea, sir," she said.

He nodded. "And you being the girl, you get to set the pace," he said. Slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her close and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "We'll play it your way."

Samantha felt rather confused as the evening went on. At her house, they acted very much like a courting couple would, but the colonel also seemed so much more like himself . . . the way he was before everything went to hell. She missed that. She missed him almost as much as she missed Daniel. They had been like a family . . .

* * *

_**Saturday, April 24** _

The colonel left around twelve-thirty in the morning. Samantha saw him out and shut the door, wondering how the hell she was supposed to contact Maybourne. The man needed to know about this, and the colonel had asked her to seek allies. She was on shaky ground with allies in the NID, but since she was already communicating with him . . . and a local uprising in the SGC could be dangerous without outside support.

She had to think, and she had to think unencumbered by emotions and the dulling effects of the drugs in her system. Despite the late hour and her weariness, she went out into the backyard and started her tai chi exercises.

She sluiced off in the shower after her exertion and contemplated the situation. Siler. She needed to get Siler involved. He'd already made an overture, and she needed help. Sane help. The colonel's instability was nerve-wracking.

She wanted to kill Hammond with her bare hands. What he'd done to the colonel and their own Daniel was criminal to say the least, and then he'd driven the colonel to kidnap other Daniels, one after another, in a vain search for a replacement. All those nice, kind, gentle men, beaten and left for dead in realities that weren't their own.

Something occurred to her suddenly. How many drugs had they pumped into O'Neill to turn him into the monster he'd been to the last Daniel? That had been terrible to watch. That Daniel hadn't been cowed in the least by O'Neill's normal level of threat, so things had escalated out of control. He'd done some of the work set out for him, but when the colonel got authoritative, that Daniel had gotten very stubborn and aggressive, which didn't go over well with O'Neill.

She leaned her head against the side of the shower and resolved to ask how that Daniel was when next she saw Maybourne. She sighed and started scrubbing her hair. What she wouldn't give to roll time back a year, to when everything was much simpler.

* * *

Daniel woke up and looked up at the dimly lit ceiling of his prison, unutterably depressed by the sameness of it. He was tired of this room, tired of working, tired of having a stiff arm, tired of being scared. His left shoulder ached as did his left hip where he'd landed. The lights came on, and by that he knew it was seven thirty. He should get up, get showered and get dressed, but he didn't want to. He wanted to roll over and pretend the world didn't exist.

Last night had been horrible. Now what happened to him didn't depend solely on his own actions, but on what Jack did outside these walls. There might one day be an explosion in his chest, and he'd die, never knowing what Jack had done . . .

He hadn't seen the sun in nearly three weeks. He hadn't even heard any music except what was in the movies that he'd been brought. No people except Samantha, Jack, a couple of airmen, the doctor and his nurse, Hammond, Berman and Coburn. The airmen didn't talk to him, nor did the doctor really. The nurse had only been in twice, and he never wanted to see Hammond, Berman or Coburn again. Jack was unpredictable and Samantha was . . . downtrodden.

This was a wretchedly unpleasant reality. He almost preferred the one where nearly everyone had been killed by the Goa'uld.

The door opened and Daniel looked over apathetically. An airman walked in with a carafe of coffee on a tray. Daniel noticed two mugs and shuddered, hoping he wasn't expecting an unwelcome guest. It was Saturday. Maybe he'd get lucky and Hammond was at a barbecue or something. The airman left and shut the door behind him.

Eventually, a call of nature drove him out of bed, and once he was up it seemed stupid to lie down again. He fitted the cover over his cast and took a shower. The water coursing over his body felt incredibly good, so he just stayed in the stream until the water started getting cold. Then he turned it off and got out. Drying himself off seemed to take forever, and he just didn't care. After a few minutes, he dropped the towel on the floor, walked back into the room and dropped down on the bed, covering himself up with a blanket and lying there, trying to think of nothing much. He didn't have to get to work right away, anyway. He wasn't supposed to work more than six hours.

Breakfast was brought in, but he didn't move. He stared at the wall beside the bed, the cold concrete wasn't exactly engrossing, but there was nothing else much he wanted to do. It was easier to just lie on the bed and not think.

He must have dropped off, because when the door opened again, he started awake and sat up, staring. Samantha stared back at him and he realized that he was naked. He just closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. She was suddenly beside him, her hand on his back as she sat down next to him on the bed.

"Daniel, what is it? Are you okay?"

"Okay?" he asked, his voice ragged, and he realized he was on the verge of tears. With a Herculean effort, he forced his emotions back and said, "That's kind of a stupid question, Samantha, though I guess you weren't here for the worst of last night's events."

Samantha squeezed his shoulder. "Why, what happened?"

"Hammond is using me to control Jack," he said, and he could hear the wooden quality his iron suppression of his reactions was giving his voice. "I don't think he's ever going to let me out of here, whatever he says about offworld missions. I think he likes me just where I am, an easily reached pawn in the dirty game he's playing with the rest of the world."

"Daniel, I don't know . . . I don't know what to say," she said.

"There isn't anything to say," Daniel replied. "He was very clear about it, said my value to him had doubled. Is he going to want to risk that on an offworld mission?"

"He almost has to," she said. "We're losing a lot of personnel on missions because no one knows how to properly communicate with the people we meet."

"Well, evidently my sole thing to communicate to them is 'Give us your stuff and we won't kill you and your children. Somehow I'm not fond of the idea of being the mouthpiece for a bunch of extortionists and robbers."

"We're not always like that, Daniel, I swear."

"You shouldn't ever be!" Daniel shook his head. "That Jaffa, from last night, Teal'c? In the other reality, he's on SG-1. We saved his son's life, we didn't threaten him. I can't – I can't do this. I loathe your Hammond."

Her eyes widened with worry. "Daniel, you have to try. I know it won't be like this forever." Urgency filled her tone, and he could see that he was scaring her.

He didn't want to scare her. He took a deep breath and managed a weak smile. "You're right. And things certainly won't change if I don't get my work done, I suppose. Could you turn your back for a minute while I go back into the bathroom and get dressed?"

"Sure," Samantha said and suited actions to words. Daniel forced himself to get dressed and went out to where she sat waiting.

"I'm sorry, Samantha, I didn't mean to alarm you."

She gave him an impulsive hug, which he returned one-armed. "I've got some work I need to get done, but I'll be back at lunch time."

He nodded, and she left quickly. Privately, he doubted that she'd be back if Hammond had anything to say about it. He seemed much freer with punishments than with rewards.

Daniel sat down at the desk and got to work. The eggs were pretty well inedible by now, but the toast was okay and so was the sausage. He ate them absently while he worked, drinking coffee. Someone brought some more coffee in after awhile, but he was so focused on his work that he didn't notice who it was. He'd been given a book this time, a fascinating history of a ruling house on a planet Daniel had never heard of. His instructions were to translate a page every hundred pages or so, which was driving him nuts because he wanted to read the whole thing, but it was a good technique for finding out if a text was likely to contain useful information. It seemed, quite frankly, that this one wouldn't. That was one of the most frustrating thing about his job back home . . . all the things that went unregarded because they weren't 'useful.'

Here wasn't the place to fight that battle, though, and now definitely wasn't the time.

Around two o'clock he looked up and sighed. Samantha hadn't shown up, though lunch had. He'd eaten it without paying much attention, and now he couldn't begin to say what he'd had. There were crumbs on the plate that looked like bread, so he guessed it had been some kind of sandwich. Shrugging, he got back to work.

The door opening startled him, and he glanced automatically at the clock. It wasn't a usual mealtime, so he turned around nervously, not sure what to expect. It was Samantha. "Sorry," she said, "I got delayed by a couple of projects."

He smiled. "It's okay. I wasn't sure I could expect you back today anyway."

"Well, it's my weekend, and you're not supposed to be working at this hour, so there's no reason I shouldn't have come," she said, walking towards him. She took the pen out of his hand and put it down. "Come on, Daniel, you need to relax a little."

"I'm not sure I can," he said, looking down at the book. He was only about three quarters of the way through it. "I need to get this done."

"And you have been ordered not to work longer than six hours a day until Thursday," she said, pulling him up out of his chair. "So you need to stop working now and leave that for tomorrow."

"I'm sure Hammond wouldn't mind if I started working full time again," Daniel said.

"He would if you collapsed," she replied, indefatigably pulling him over to the bed. "Daniel, you have to take care of yourself, or you'll get sick again."

He allowed himself to be pulled. "It's not like there's anything else to do in here," he said.

"Look, I figure Shakespeare can't have changed much between the realities, so I grabbed a couple of videos, ran them past Hammond and got permission to bring them in and watch them with you. I've got popcorn, pizza and soda coming. Relax a little and have fun."

He found this more than a little startling, but he settled down on the bed as if it were a couch, just as they had the night before. She walked over and put the tapes down next to the machine. She popped the Cinderella tape out and said, "Do you want _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ or _Romeo and Juliet?"_

" _Romeo and Juliet,"_ he said. "Then when we're depressed from that play's ending, we can watch _Midsummer_ to cheer us up."

"That works," she said. As she got the movie ready, he reflected that even if Shakespeare's plays hadn't changed significantly, the interpretations of them might have. Before she started the movie, the door opened. Daniel looked up apprehensively, but it was just an airman with a big bucket of movie style popcorn and a twelve-pack of Coke. He set them down on the desk and looked at Daniel oddly before he went out again.

"Well, that's all set, then," she said, grabbing the popcorn and pulling out a couple of cans. "Here."

They settled down to watch Franco Zeffirelli's _Romeo and Juliet_ , which was pretty much exactly the same as Daniel remembered. Same actors, same interpretation, the familiarity was very soothing despite the tragic content of the story. He watched the doomed folly of the relationship between the young couple play out on the small screen.

When it was over, he said, "I always find that so frustrating, the message gone astray . . . the way we see the messenger and Romeo pass each other on the road."

"I think Romeo's an idiot," Samantha said.

Daniel turned to her in surprise. "An idiot?" he asked.

"He gets there, he sees her, and he kills himself. If he'd waited five minutes, he'd have known he didn't have to. She had to get out of the marriage to Paris or be forsworn, but he has no excuse." Daniel didn't quite know what to say in the face of her vehemence. "Suicide isn't romantic, it's wasteful. Even assuming she was dead, he could have gone on, lived his life without her. He's doing her no tribute by dying for 'love,' just proving that he's weak of spirit."

"Wow," he said. "I wish you'd been in some of my college classes. I did get tired of those girls wallowing in the 'romance' of it all." She grinned at him, pleased by this accolade. "I always wanted to ask them if they wished they'd fallen in love, gotten married and died before turning fourteen."

"So true," she said. "I don't understand the fascination."

"It's the romance of a long ago time," Daniel said, sighing. "After all, most of the young girls who see this don't think about the fact that there weren't flush toilets, reliable doctors or dentists, or that Juliet's life expectancy would have been extremely short even if she hadn't killed herself at thirteen."

"The idiocy of young girls is not a subject I want to delve too deeply into," Samantha said. "Not that young boys aren't just as stupid, but I can't help being frustrated with my own gender."

He nodded. "Well, why don't we move on to a play that makes fun of everybody equally?"

"Works for me," she said. The pizza had arrived while they watched the first movie, and Daniel sat, replete, while she swapped the movie in the machine. He had his eyes closed, thinking about the movie, the conversation with Samantha, and nothing much else. It was a pleasant moment, and he wanted to hang onto it as long as possible.

An itch started in the middle of his right shoulder blade, and his brain automatically told his left hand to scratch it. The slight jog of his left arm irritated his aching shoulder and made him grit his teeth. If Hammond wanted him to get used to being here, breaking his arm was a poor choice. Every time he went to scratch his nose, he was reminded of what could happen if he stepped his foot out of line again. Or if Jack stepped his foot out of line.

He took a deep breath to fortify himself in the struggle to control his feelings of helplessness. There were many times in his life when he'd felt powerless, but this was particularly bad. He couldn't get out of this room, he couldn't stop any of the people who came in from doing whatever they wanted to with him. They outnumbered him, and he didn't know who he could trust. He was sure that he could trust Samantha, he believed that he could trust Jack within limits. His Teal'c had said he should trust this reality's Maybourne, but beyond that he had no idea who out there would help or hurt him. No doubt some of them would 'help' him by putting him back in here.

"Daniel? Are you in pain?" Samantha's voice rang with concern.

He looked up. "No, thanks. I'm getting the pain medication on schedule. I'm just . . . I . . . it doesn't matter."

Her expression told him that she didn't agree, but he caught her hand and smiled. "It's okay, Samantha. There's nothing you can do but what you're already doing."

"The next movie's ready to go," she said.

"Then sit down and let's watch."

This was a more recent interpretation, and it was very enjoyable. Daniel and Samantha laughed and got annoyed and enjoyed the story thoroughly. By the time it was over, the lights had been out for about twenty minutes, so when the credits started, Samantha got up. "I'd better be going, Daniel."

"Thank you, Samantha," he said, catching her hand again and squeezing it. "This was nice."

She smiled. "I'll see if I can't get some more movies okayed."

"Sounds good," he said. "I'll see you later."

"Definitely," she said. Bending, she gave him a hug, and then she left.

Daniel changed into his pajamas – he was getting better at the one-handed button thing – and went to bed.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Sunday, April 25  
_ Reality ** **L583**

Jack sat up in the darkened room, cold sweat pouring down his face. He was breathing heavily, and his heart felt like a jackhammer in his chest. The images from his nightmare were still with him, painted on the darkness in front of his eyes.

_Jack! No, help me! Jack!_ Daniel, being beaten by a maniacal looking Hammond while Jack looked on. _Please, Jack! Please!_ The Jack in his dream had been both him and the alternate reality O'Neill. The blood, the pathetic pleading, the desperate horror on Daniel's face as he sank lower and lower under the hand of one man he trusted while another looked on, doing nothing.

Jack shook his head, trying to rid himself of the dream. It didn't work, so he shrugged and swung his feet out of the bed, glancing at the clock. Six a.m. "Might as well get up," he muttered. He arose and grabbed his bag from under the bunk where he'd dossed out the night before. Heading to the locker room, he took a quick shower and got dressed.

Carter was in the commissary when he got there, so he grabbed a bowl of Froot Loops and went to sit down next to her. "How are you this morning?" he asked.

"Miserable," she said. "Helpless. Useless!"

He blinked at her in surprise. "Carter, you are anything but useless."

She shook her head. "I am. I can't seem . . . I don't know . . . I've done everything I can think of. I can't make it work without the controller."

"It's okay, Carter," he said. "It's okay."

"It is not okay," she replied. "It's not anything like okay. I can't do it, sir. I can't get him home."

"Carter, we will get him home."

"I can't, sir," she protested, not hearing him. "I . . . I . . ." Her eyes went distant all of a sudden, that odd 'sciency' distant that she got when she was coming up with a new idea. "I think . . . excuse me!" She got up and left the commissary quickly.

Jack hoped she'd find something useful. He finished his Froot Loops and then wondered what he should do. SG-1 was on stand down because of Daniel being missing, it was Sunday, so he didn't have any administrative duties. Hammond was at home, Carter was working and didn't need him, Teal'c was with the alternate Daniel. Jack had no reasonable excuse to be on base, but he couldn't stay away.

He wandered the base aimlessly for about an hour, trying not to think about Daniel. Maybourne had said that their Daniel was behaving differently, but Jack didn't know what to make of that. Drugged. They were drugging O'Neill to heighten his aggression. Jack thought about his aggression levels. They didn't seem overly high, he supposed, but one would think they were high enough. Daniel always seemed to think he should damp it down a bit.

Daniel . . . .

He went to the alternate Daniel's room and knocked. Teal'c opened the door and nodded. Then he turned his head and said, "It is O'Neill, DanielJackson."

"Come in, Jack," called Daniel. Jack walked into the room and found Daniel sitting up in bed, his foot supported on a pillow. He had a lap desk across his legs and he was working, but he looked up with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

Jack walked over and grabbed one of the chairs from the table, flipped it around and sat straddling the back. "Just came by to look in on you."

"I'm fine," Daniel said. "But I think Teal'c could use a break."

Jack glanced up at the Jaffa who nodded at Daniel. "Indeed."

"You could call someone, you know," Jack said. Teal'c shrugged, and Jack rolled his eyes, waving him towards the door. "Go, take some time. I'll stay here."

As Teal'c left, Daniel said, "You know, he doesn't need to spend all his time in here. No one does. I don't need a babysitter."

"Are you allowed to put all your weight on that foot yet?" Jack asked, pointing to the carefully wrapped and propped limb. Daniel grimaced, which was answer enough. "So, how are you feeling otherwise?"

The other man shrugged and didn't meet Jack's eyes. "Fine."

Rolling his eyes again, Jack shook his head. "Now, where have I heard that before?" he asked rhetorically. "With all the words you guys know, isn't there another one you could say that might come a little closer to the truth?"

Daniel glared at him. "I am fine," he said. "A little pain isn't that big a deal."

"No, I know," Jack said, sighing. "But last I checked, the definition of 'fine' doesn't include a little pain, or missing one's kids, or one's wife."

Daniel ducked his head and looked away. "What's your point?" he asked in a muffled voice after a couple of minutes.

Jack felt like a heel for upsetting him. He leaned closer. "It's okay not to be fine, you know." Daniel shrugged. "You do know that, don't you?" Daniel shrugged again. "Surely some Daniel somewhere knows that!"

Daniel's shoulders started shaking and Jack bit his lip. Then Daniel turned to face him, shaking his head. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry when you do that. You sound so much like my own Jack when he's on one of those kicks."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I do, do I?"

"Most definitely." He looked down at the papers in front of him. "Could you hand me the book over there?" He pointed at a pile of five or six books.

Jack got up and walked over. "Could you give me a clue? A color at the very least."

Daniel chuckled. "Green."

Jack picked up the green book and handed it to Daniel. Then he sat down again and watched the other man work for a long while. It was so strange to look at this man and know, despite his appearance, despite the sound of his voice, despite everything, this was not his Daniel. He lowered his forehead to the back of the chair.

"Jack?" He brought his head up in surprise at the closeness of the voice. Daniel had inched his way down the bed and was reaching out. "Jack, are you okay?"

He bit his lip. "No, I'm not okay," he said, giving Daniel a lopsided grin.

Daniel dropped his arm and looked abashed. "I'm sorry. Of course you're not. No more than I am."

They fell into a maudlin silence for a few moments, then Jack cleared his throat. "Well, that's enough of that," he muttered.

"Right," Daniel said, flushing. "Back to work."

Jack found a deck of cards in a cupboard and sat down at the table to play solitaire. As he flipped the cards over in game after game, he contemplated Daniel, both this one and his own. Maybourne said his Daniel was getting treated differently in that other reality. He thought about all the things that had happened to Daniel, and wondered what was being added to the list as he dropped a nine of hearts on a ten of clubs.

Abruptly, he glanced over at the Daniel in this room. They hadn't told him about the visits from Maybourne, too worried that he'd be alarmed. But . . . was that fair? Didn't he deserve to know what was going on, what they were attempting to do to help him? He certainly didn't deserve to be treated like a child, and he surely had information that could prove useful to them.

As he looked at this Daniel, he thought about what his Daniel would say if they tried to do something similar to him and shivered at the imagined invective. When Rothman showed up about forty-five minutes later to drop off some books, Jack asked him to stay awhile. Daniel didn't even notice, he was so focused on what he was doing. All Daniels were alike in that sense, Jack guessed.

He headed up to his office and gave the general a call. A very young female voice answered the phone and said she'd go get grampa for him. Jack smiled, thinking of the picture of Hammond's young granddaughters that rested on the general's desk. "Hello?" said Hammond into the phone, his voice light and casual.

"General, sir, I'm sorry to disturb you at home," Jack said.

"Colonel O'Neill," Hammond said, and his voice sharpened to a more businesslike tone. "Is something wrong?"

"No sir, I was actually just thinking about something and wanted to address it at the earliest possible opportunity."

The general sighed and said, "Yes?"

"We've been keeping Maybourne's visits from Daniel . . . this Daniel . . ."

"I know who you mean, colonel. And?"

"I was just thinking that it isn't entirely fair to keep it from him. He's not a child, so we shouldn't treat him like one."

Hammond was silent for a moment. "You were dead set against it."

"I know . . . I didn't want to get his hopes up, I just . . . I spent a couple of hours with him today and I got to thinking that our Daniel would be furious at him if we pulled something like that on him."

"True, but are you sure you can trust him? Are you sure he trusts us enough to cope with this? And how's he going to react to finding out that our Daniel isn't receiving the same treatment he did?"

"He's Daniel, sir. He'll be glad for him."

Hammond let out a bark of unwilling laughter. "You're probably right, colonel. That's just one of my questions, though. What about the others?"

Jack nodded. "I do think we can trust him. And I think he can cope with this, sir."

"Be very cautious. Watch his mood carefully."

"I will, sir," Jack said.

"Call me to let me know how he takes it, and if you learn anything new."

"Of course, sir."

Jack hung up the phone and contemplated how best to broach the subject with Daniel. After a couple of minutes of fruitless thought, he shrugged and got up. He'd figure it out as he went, like he did everything.

Rothman and Daniel were deep in discussion over some incredibly minor point of linguistic variation when he got there, so he let them hash it out to their mutual satisfaction, settling down to his solitaire game again. Eventually, Rothman glanced at the time and gave a little yip of surprise. "I have to go. I'm supposed to give a talk in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks for the help, Robert," Daniel said. Rothman nodded distractedly, glanced at Jack and then left hurriedly.

Jack didn't want to seem too pushy, as if he'd just been waiting for Rothman to leave so he could rush Daniel and demand answers, so he finished his current solitaire game, then got up and walked over to the bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Daniel shook his head urgently. Jack closed his mouth and sat down, waiting while Daniel worked feverishly. After several minutes, the archeologist looked up. "Sorry, Jack, got firmly fixed on a thought and didn't dare interrupt it."

"Don't worry, I understand," Jack said. "Do you have a lot more to go?"

"No, actually," Daniel said, closing the file. "That's the last of that project. Just a minute." He reached over to the phone and dialed an extension. "I'm done. Someone can pick it up." He nodded. "Right. So, is there anything else for me?" There was a pause, then Daniel's shoulders slumped. "Oh, okay. Thanks." He hung up, looking more than a little depressed.

"What's up?" Jack asked.

Daniel shrugged, putting on an expression of unconcern. "They don't have anything for me to work on," he said.

"Well, I have something I want to talk to you about," Jack said. Daniel raised his eyebrows and settled back against the headboard of the bed, his hands folded. His eyes gave the clear impression that he believed Jack was merely attempting to give him something to think about other than his situation. Jack cleared his throat. "We haven't said anything to you for fear of how you might take it."

"I take it you're no longer concerned about that?" Daniel asked wryly.

"No, I still am," Jack said, "but I came to the conclusion that treating you like a child wasn't in anyone's best interests."

"I see," Daniel said. ""I'm glad to hear it. I knew you were keeping something from me, but I wasn't sure what."

Jack meditated briefly on the futility of lying to a Daniel Jackson, then coughed. "Well, you see . . ." He paused, uncertain just how to begin.

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Daniel said after waiting a decent interval.

"Sorry." Jack shrugged. "I didn't . . ." He grimaced. Hell, he'd better just say it. "We've been in contact with the Harry Maybourne from the reality where you were held, where our Daniel is being held now."

Daniel's eyes widened. After a short pause during which he seemed incapable of speech, he said, "Harry Maybourne?"

"Did you see him while you were there?" Jack asked, suddenly realizing that they should have asked him that when Maybourne first showed up.

"No, no one even mentioned him." Daniel shook his head slowly. "Ours is a gung ho, xenophobic asshole. What's yours like?"

"The same," Jack replied. "This one seems to be cut from a different mold." This Daniel gave him a funny look much as his own might have after such a mangled metaphor.

"He's been in contact, though?" Daniel asked. "Why? Did he contact my reality?"

"He says not," Jack said. "I gather he hasn't had access to the mirror before this."

"But why?"

"He says he wants to end it. Get our Daniel back to us and get all the other Daniels back to where they belong."

Daniel was silent, his mouth open, staring in astonishment. Jack sympathized. Eventually, he seemed to recover himself. "Do you believe him?"

Jack nodded slowly. "Actually, I do. And that really surprises me."

"Wow." Daniel blinked. "Why didn't you want to tell me?" he asked.

"Um . . ." Jack grimaced. "I didn't want to get your –"

There was a knock at the door, interrupting him. Jack got up with an apologetic frown, but Daniel just shrugged. He walked over and let in the lieutenant who'd come to pick up Daniel's work, Lt. Graves. She walked over to the bed and smiled shyly as she took the papers from Daniel. Then she left, blushing slightly. Jack rolled his eyes.

When the door was closed again, Daniel tilted his head at him. "You didn't want to get my hopes up? Was that the end of that sentence?"

"It was," Jack said, shrugging.

"I see. Well, what else did Maybourne say? How is your Daniel?"

"Um . . . first I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask you," Jack said hesitantly.

Daniel's lips tightened, and he looked annoyed for a moment. Then his eyes cleared. "You want a check against what Maybourne told you, don't you?"

"Among other things."

"Okay, ask away." Daniel's tone was light, but his expression was shuttered.

Jack nodded. He picked up the clipboard he'd brought with him from his office and sat ready. "First, who did you see there that you knew from your reality, and what were your impressions of them?"

"That's easy. I didn't see many people. Samantha Carter." Daniel looked thoughtful. "She's a lieutenant there. At first she was very cold, very hard, but she softened quickly. She brought most of my meals, most of my projects, ice when I was hurt." He was quiet for a moment. "I think she hates what's going on but doesn't know how to stop it."

Jack nodded and jotted some notes. "Go on."

"Major Charlie Kowalski." Jack looked up in surprise. "So he's dead here, too?" Daniel asked. Jack nodded. "I only really saw him the first day and the last. He was on the snatch and on the drop. He seemed cruel and callous, but again, I saw very little of him."

"I see." Jack made more notes, deeply disturbed by the notion that any Kowalski anywhere could be seen as cruel and callous.

"Jack O'Neill." Daniel shuddered. "He was incredibly violent, incredibly angry." His eyes were open, but he wasn't looking at anything in this room. "When he wasn't being actively infuriated, he was incredibly domineering. Not to say that my Jack isn't pretty damned bossy, but this man . . . he wanted to control every minute of the day. I would eat what he told me to eat when he told me to eat whether I was hungry or not, whether I wanted it or not. The lights went out and came on at the same time every day . . ." He shook his head. "I still don't understand why he was so angry at me all the time."

"He was drugged," Jack said, hoping to ease some of the baffled hurt in the other man's eyes.

Daniel turned sharply to look him in the eyes. "Drugged? The _hell_ you say?"

Jack nodded. "Maybourne said he's being given drugs to enhance aggression without his knowledge. He said that most of the staff was being given drugs of some kind. That Carter is getting downers."

"That . . . that makes it all make so much more sense," Daniel said, his voice very quiet, eyes distant. "He kept having these moments, where he'd act suddenly very concerned, almost caring, but it would disappear the next moment into a haze of violence."

Jack contemplated that uncomfortably. "Did you see anyone else?" he asked. "Hammond, for instance?"

"Oh yes," Daniel said with a shudder. "He was the creepiest damn thing I've ever seen. He looks and sounds like my Hammond, like your Hammond, but he is the coldest bastard . . . I only saw him twice, but that was plenty."

"Tell me about it?"

"Both times were moments when I'd refused to translate something. I was so angry at being stuck there, at how constricted the situation was, at them. I would just stop working. Jack would get angry, but I guess he didn't get angry enough for Hammond on two occasions. He came in, bringing Major Coburn . . . I forgot him. He ordered Coburn to be careful of my head and my hands when he pounded on me, since they were the only parts of me that mattered, so long as I was going to live at the end of it."

Jack closed his eyes, trying not to imagine his own Daniel in that same situation.

"Did Maybourne tell you how Daniel is? Your Daniel?"

Jack nodded. "Yes. He's . . . he's behaved differently than all the rest of you, and so has been treated a bit differently."

"How so?" Daniel asked.

Jack crossed his arms. "He hasn't rebelled much. He's done what's been asked of him, and on the first night, he saved a team from being sacrificed by translating from that little room he's being kept in."

"Really? How's he being treated?"

"That Jack's being brotherly, I guess, but he's sinking into the delusion that our Daniel is really his original Daniel."

"Kowalski said that their Daniel was dead. That their Jack had killed him because he was unmanageable."

Jack shook his head. "That's not how Maybourne tells it. According to him, the Jack and Daniel from that reality were extremely close, to the point of being like brothers."

"Really?" Daniel looked thoughtful. "So what happened then?"

"I guess their relationship involved some roughhousing, play fighting, that kind of thing, but they'd both been abused as children, and the roughhousing became something a little more unhealthy. Jack would hit Daniel when he was angry over something Daniel had done."

Daniel blinked. "I'd be a mass of bruises all the time if my Jack did that to me. Not that he'd get away with it, but . . ."

Jack nodded. "Well, this unhealthy situation was exacerbated by the drugs. With Jack being given things to make him more aggressive and Daniel being given things to make him more passive . . ."

Daniel was silent for a moment. Then he said, "So that Daniel's death was a genuine accident."

"According to Maybourne. Then Hammond put the pressure on and their Jack went off the deep end. He kept grabbing Daniels, but, oddly enough, none of them wanted to be there, so they'd get angry, and he'd get angry –"

"And he'd take it out on us physically." Daniel nodded. "That follows. So your Daniel, by not rebelling, is fitting into the mold?"

"I guess," Jack said, shaking his head. "I don't get it. It's the last thing I'd expect from him, but apparently he seems to know exactly how to react to keep that O'Neill from beating the crud out of him. The only time he's been hurt is when he refused to translate something that would have made it easy for that Hammond to kill a village full of Jaffa."

Daniel's jaw dropped. "What happened?"

"He refused," Jack said, gritting his teeth. "Hammond told him that he could do it or he could have his arm broken."

Daniel covered his eyes with his hand. "I know where this is going," he said. "Coburn did it, I'm sure. Hammond doesn't do things himself."

Jack looked down at his hands. "And that isn't the worst. Our Daniel hasn't been hurt quite as often as any . . . as you were, but Hammond has decided to keep him, and for that he needed something to control him with." Daniel lowered his hand from his eyes, looking apprehensive. "He put an explo –" Jack shook his head. He was not going to use euphemisms. "He put a bomb in Daniel's chest to destroy his heart at a signal from a remote control."

The other man looked frozen for a few moments. Then he burst out, "Sick bastard!"

Jack nodded fervently. Then he looked down at his notes. "So, all of this is jibing with what you know of the people in question?"

Daniel nodded. "Actually, it's making a lot of things make more sense than they did before. Jack . . . that Jack always seemed to be trying to placate Hammond in some way or other . . ." He shivered. "I wish your Daniel wasn't there."

Jack closed his eyes. "So do I, and only a Daniel would say that rather than 'I'm glad I'm out of there.'"

"Knock it off, Jack," Daniel said. "So, do you have a time frame for getting him back?"

"Maybourne says it could take as much as six months, and since the mirror's at Area 52, us going through to there doesn't seem like it's got much scope."

"Hell." Daniel grimaced. "Well, if it would help at all, I can give you an idea of where in the base the room I was held in was located."

"That would be great," Jack said and Daniel started drawing. It didn't take long. Jack recognized the room. It was used for storage. They must have added the bathroom in, because the room here didn't have a bathroom.

"We have a storeroom there in my reality," Daniel said. "But there that room has been fitted out as a prison. I never set foot outside it from the time I was taken there till they carried me out. And I was constantly monitored, even in the bathroom, I think, though I could never be sure. The cameras were hidden."

"Damn it!" Jack shook his head. "I hate this."

"I know. I hate to think what Sha're and the kids are going through, wondering where I am."

"It's disturbing, isn't it?" Jack said. "God, I'm sorry. Now I've made us both depressed."

"I was already depressed," Daniel pointed out. "Not much you can do to make me more depressed, really."

Jack slumped in his chair. "Well, we're going to get you home and get our Daniel back." Daniel nodded firmly, as though convincing himself. "So, I've got a great idea. I'll go find a chessboard and you can wallop me at chess a few times. That's bound to cheer you up."

Daniel looked dubious, but he agreed to the proposal, so Jack sent for a chessboard. They played until dinner time.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Sunday, April 25** _ **  
Reality A001**

Daniel was glad that the tub had a broad ledge. He rested his cast on the side and sank as far as he could into the hot water to soak his bruises. It had been a very quiet day. The only person he saw all day was the airman who brought his meals. Silently brought them. He'd half expected Samantha, but she hadn't shown. Daniel suspected that if she'd wanted to, Hammond would have prevented her. He was here to work, not to enjoy movies with a pretty woman.

He'd spent the morning working on the history book, then took a nap when he finished. At noon, the airman came with his lunch and a new folder of papers, so he'd gotten back to work after eating. His left shoulder was beginning to ache with the inactivity forced on him by the cast and the sling, and his right arm was getting sore from doing all the work.

Before too long, he was tired out again and he lay down for another nap. When he woke up it was past eight and since he'd already worked his required six hours, he decided to take a bath. So now he lay in the tub, wishing he was home, wishing he didn't have a broken arm . . .

Next thing he knew, there was a very polite, very embarrassed young man at his elbow. "Sir, you have to come out of there. You've been in there for at least three hours."

The water was now cold, and Daniel struggled to sit up. "Thanks," he said thickly. He was very stiff and his left shoulder ached even more than it had before he took his bath because his weight had been dragging on it while he slept. He blinked, trying to wake himself fully, but it was not easy.

"Sir, are you okay?" the airman asked.

Daniel nodded. "A little stiff, I think," he said. He sat for a moment, trying to gather the energy to try and stand up.

"Do you need help?" The young man was hovering anxiously. Daniel shook his head, grimacing, and started to push himself to his feet in the tub, no simple task one-handed. It was a good thing that the airman hadn't left, because when Daniel lost his balance, the other man steadied him. "Sir, let me help you."

Daniel gave him a brief smile and gently shook him off. "I'm up, I should be fine. Can you get me a towel, though?" The young man nodded and pulled the towel off the rack. Daniel took it and stepped out of the tub. "I'm out now. You can go, I'll be fine."

"If it's all the same to you, sir, I think I'd better stay." Daniel shrugged and got himself as dry as was reasonable, then pulled on a pair of pajama pants. The airman hovered nearby.

"What's your name?" Daniel asked, squinting at the blurry tag on his chest.

"Solomon, sir," he said, "Airman Solomon."

"You really don't have to stay," Daniel said. He walked into the other room with Solomon in close attendance.

"Do you know what the general would do to me if I let you fall down and hurt yourself?"

"Promote you?" Daniel suggested. Solomon's eyes widened. "Sorry, bad joke," Daniel muttered. He climbed into bed. "Good night." Almost as soon as he found a comfortable position, he fell sound asleep again.

* * *

_**Monday, April 26** _

The first thing Daniel thought when he woke up was _three weeks today._ At just past noon today, it would be three weeks since this Jack abducted him from his office. He ached all over, and he could almost feel the weight of the bomb in his chest. He wanted to go home, but that wasn't happening any time soon.

"Danny, you awake?"

Daniel sat up sharply and stared at Jack, who was sitting at the desk, watching him. "Yeah. Um . . . good morning, Jack."

The colonel put his book down and walked over to him. "You feeling okay? Solomon was pretty worried after he got you out of the tub last night."

"I'm fine, Jack. I just got tired, that's all." Daniel blinked. He was still tired, but he'd been on an emotional roller coaster for three weeks. With some difficulty, owing to his inability to use his left arm, he shifted himself backward to lean against the wall.

"You don't look well," Jack said, squatting by the bed. "Should I get the doctor?"

Daniel shrugged. "I'm just tired, Jack. It's been a wearing few weeks."

Jack shook his head. "You really don't look well. You're looking sort of gray."

Daniel grimaced. "Great." He turned and got up, heading into the bathroom. The towel he'd used the night before still lay on the floor. He picked it up and shoved it into the laundry chute. He used the toilet, then washed his hands and pulled on a t-shirt. When he left the bathroom, he was half-hoping to find that Jack had gone, but no such luck. Jack was still in the room, but he'd stuck his head out the door.

Daniel walked over and sat down at the desk. He used a sticky note to mark Jack's place in his book and set it aside. Then he flipped his texts open and started working.

He'd only been going for a few seconds before a yell from Jack made him jump. "Daniel!" He turned apprehensively to see Jack staring down at him with clear exasperation. "What are you doing?"

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Working," he said. "Why, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Daniel, it's obvious even to a blind fool like me that you're not really up to it yet. Rest for awhile longer. You're only supposed to put in six hours today in any case. You don't have to start the minute you get up."

Daniel pursed his lips. "You sent for the doctor, didn't you?"

"What of it?"

"There's nothing he can tell me that I don't already know."

"Well, he's coming," Jack said implacably. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

Daniel shrugged. "I'm well aware of that, Jack," he said, and he couldn't help the bitterness in his tone. He turned back to the desk and started working again.

Jack sat down in the chair next to the desk. "Daniel, I didn't mean . . . I've been trying to get you out of here, but Hammond won't hear of it."

Daniel paused in his work and closed his eyes. "Please, let's not talk about Hammond."

"Sure, Daniel," Jack said hastily. An uneasy silence fell between them, and Daniel looked down at the copies of parchment and the books that lay open in front of him, and suddenly none of it made any sense. He slammed one of the books shut so hard that it made Jack jump.

"Damn it!" he growled. "I hate this!"

The door opened and Daniel turned. It was Dr. Warner and General Hammond with his faithful shadow. Daniel turned back to face the desk and closed his eyes. Didn't that bloody man have anything better to do? Had Jack even considered that Hammond might take an interest in anything unusual coming out of this room?

He stood, because Hammond always seemed to commandeer this chair when he came in. Jack stood up as well and pulled him towards the other chair. Under his insistent pressure, Daniel sat down again. Hammond walked over to him, pushing Jack out of the way, and put a hand under his chin, tilting his face up. Daniel held very still, not looking into the other man's eyes. "You don't look well," he said, his tone irritable. "Doctor, what's wrong with him?"

Warner cleared his throat. "You mean apart from the broken arm, the multiple contusions, the unnecessary surgery and –" A growl from Hammond cut him off. "Close confinement isn't good for anyone, sir, it –"

"You haven't examined him, Warner," Hammond said, releasing Daniel's jaw and turning towards the doctor. "I don't want your moral prating, I want to know what's physically wrong with the man."

Daniel endured the swift exam Warner gave him, not liking Hammond's close proximity. It seemed that his temperature was normal, his heart rate was in the accepted range, and his blood pressure was a little elevated, but not in the danger zone. That last was hardly shocking. Daniel felt like a harp string that had just been plucked.

"Well?" Hammond demanded impatiently.

"Hypertension," Warner replied, "combined with physical trauma and the stress of being kept in a confined space without access to sunlight." Daniel was very aware of Hammond's close scrutiny.

"He could come stay with me," Jack suggested suddenly. Hammond gave the colonel a suspicious look. Daniel licked his lips. It would be good to get out of here, but staying with Jack might make it a bit harder for his friends to find him when they came. It would also make it harder to avoid conflict with the colonel.

"O'Neill, wait outside, please," Hammond said, and Daniel didn't dare look at him. He was afraid he'd look too nakedly terrified and desperate for him to stay. Jack opened his mouth to protest, but no words escaped his lips. Hammond waited in silence, staring at him, until he turned to go. Then the general appeared to dismiss him from his attention, turning to the doctor. "What do you suggest, Dr. Warner? Does he need vitamins?"

Warner's mouth opened, but he didn't speak immediately, and his eyes flashed over to Daniel's face in something like alarm. "No, sir, I don't think so. I think he needs a little time outside, more to do that isn't work, more visitors. This isolation isn't doing him any good." The door opened and shut as Jack left.

"Vitamins wouldn't do him any good?" Hammond asked.

Again, Warner gave Daniel an odd look, making him wonder what the hell they were talking about, then the doctor said, "Sir, I think it would be ill advised at this time. There are too many factors involved for it to have predictable effects." Daniel realized abruptly that they were not talking about vitamins, but something that was being concealed as vitamins. That must be how everyone was being drugged.

Which implied that he wasn't currently being drugged, or Hammond wouldn't be suggesting it. However, he was now pushing for it, which wasn't a good thing. "I'm just tired," Daniel said. "It will pass."

Hammond turned to gaze down at Daniel. "Did I ask you?"

Daniel reminded himself that yelling at the bastard would not have a beneficial effect. "No, sir," he said woodenly.

"You are relieved from work for the rest of the day," Hammond said. "And I will have Lt. Carter find some more movies for you. Warner, come with me. We will discuss this in my office."

Warner nodded and followed the general out of the room. Daniel sat for a few moments, his heart still pounding in his chest, wondering what this change in Hammond's behavior meant. After awhile, he got up and went over to his bed where he curled up on his side. He had to fight the depression that was threatening to overwhelm him. If he got too depressed, he'd stop watching his tongue and let his anger fly, and that could have disastrous results.

Empty of people, the room was too quiet. He'd been ordered not to engage in his sole reason for being here, the work that only a Daniel Jackson could do. He'd slept long enough. He didn't have anything he wanted to read, and he'd seen all the movies that were here at least twice, if not more times at this point.

There was nothing to do but lie here and try not to be depressed.

* * *

As Samantha approached the general's office, his secretary said, "Go on in, honey." Samantha nodded at the old woman and opened the door onto an angry confrontation. General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill were facing off across the general's desk, and Dr. Warner stood a few feet away from them, looking more than a little harried.

". . . control him, sir," the colonel was saying. "There's no reason he couldn't come stay with me. I have the space, and –"

"It's out of the question, Colonel O'Neill," Hammond said in an icy voice. "As of this moment, Daniel Jackson is legally dead. I'm not going to alter that to suit your whims."

Samantha stepped inside and closed the door. This didn't sound like a conversation that needed to become gossip fodder.

O'Neill's voice took on a persuasive note. "Why not, sir?" he asked. "It wouldn't hurt anything, would it? We could say that he was undercover somewhere, and that we couldn't let his identity be known, so it was easier to fake his death."

Samantha looked over at the general who had a faint smile on his face. He shook his head. "His being dead gives me an advantage that I'm not willing to give up," he said, sounding smug. Samantha braced herself for the explosion that was sure to burst out of her commanding officer and looked over at him in surprise when it didn't come. He seethed in silence, obviously worried that Daniel would pay for any outburst on his part. "The expenses incurred in his upkeep are being billed as maintenance for a translation device. He's a non-person, and I like it that way."

Samantha found her own temper rising and fought to keep it under control, to continue to seem like a drugged automaton under Hammond's thumb.

"I see," Colonel O'Neill said in a colorless voice.

"The only way Daniel Jackson will leave this base is through the gate. However, I might be persuaded to allow him on the surface within the confines of the base. With guards." His eyes narrowed as he gazed at O'Neill. "Without you."

"Sir, it would be better for Dr. Jackson if he was with someone he felt comfortable with," Dr. Warner said tentatively.

"Well, then, he can go with Lt. Carter," Hammond said, looking at her. "Carter, I'm glad you're here. Go find six or seven movies in the base library that you think Dr. Jackson would like and bring them back with you."

She nodded and hurried out. What was going on? What was the colonel doing, suggesting that Daniel go live with him? Things were just getting strange. Nothing like this had happened before with any of the other Daniels.

The selection of movies in the base library was pretty limited. She didn't want to get anything too depressing or too violent. Watching someone beating up on someone else would probably not be a great thing for Daniel right now. She grabbed a selection and went back to the general's office, once more going in without knocking.

"I have to, do I, colonel?" Hammond was asking, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I didn't mean that, sir," O'Neill said hastily. "It would just be good. Daniel needs to get out of that room a bit."

"We'll see, colonel," Hammond said with finality. Seeing the colonel about to make some angry retort, she walked forward swiftly and put the movies on the desk. All three of them looked at her with surprise. Hammond looked down at them. "Colonel, I want you to go read Dempsey's mission report on P9N-394. I'm going to send SG-1 there on Wednesday, so you need to get up to speed on the situation."

"SG-1?" the colonel asked. "Are you planning on sending Daniel?"

"Barring emergencies, Dr. Jackson will not be going on missions till his arm is healed," Hammond said. "Get the report, colonel. The briefing will be tomorrow at ten a.m. sharp." O'Neill saluted, pivoted on his heel, and left. Hammond turned to Dr. Warner. "How much time does Jackson need outside?"

"I'd say a minimum of three hours, sir, and it can't be just once. It needs to be a frequent occurrence. The human body requires sunlight. He also needs to feel secure. The bomb –"

"Is not under discussion," Hammond said sharply. "What is it about that pitiful archeologist? He's got you all turning into simpering wimps."

"It's not Dr. Jackson, sir," Warner said. "I would feel this way about any prisoner. I think the Jaffa probably needs sunlight as well, and his child certainly does."

"The Jaffa needs to earn sunlight for both himself and his child," Hammond said coldly. "But I can't afford for Dr. Jackson to fall ill, particularly not if I want to get proper use out of him." Warner looked disturbed, but Samantha knew she had to fight down her own feelings of outrage. She couldn't let that overpower her practicality or she'd be doomed.

She took a deep breath and said, "Sir, would it be accurate to say that you regard Dr. Jackson as a tool?"

"Yes, Carter. Why do you ask?" Hammond looked curious, and Warner looked appalled by her calm question.

"Well, any good tool requires maintenance, right? I mean, you put oil in your car and change the belt on your vacuum cleaner. Look at it as maintenance. A human being needs sunlight and social interaction to stay healthy. If you give him those things, he'll be more productive."

Warner was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before, but Hammond nodded sourly. "I guess that's true, though I can hardly see how he could be any more productive."

She grimaced. "Sir, I know he has been productive, but no one can go on for long at the pace that's been set for him. If you want him to last, you're going to have to –"

"Lower my demand, yes, I know. That point has been mentioned before, though never quite so sensibly." She tried not to flinch under his approving regard. He nodded slightly at her, then turned to Dr. Warner. "Very well, I will permit outings to the surface for Dr. Jackson. No more than two a week, no more than two hours at a time. Arrange them with Lt. Carter. If she's not available, then there is no outing. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Warner said, glancing at Samantha with confusion in his eyes. "I will consult with Lt. Carter."

"Very good. You are dismissed." With another perplexed glance at Samantha, Dr. Warner left the office.

When the door was shut, Hammond smiled at her. "Please, Lt. Carter, have a seat." She managed a return smile and sat down. "You have become quite practical," he said. "I commend you on the alteration of your outlook."

"Thank you, sir," she said, at a loss for anything else to say.

"See that it lasts." She nodded. He pulled the movies closer and sorted through them. "Any of these will do, but please only take three in at a time. He's already got six movies in his room right now. Get those out of there and take three of these in."

"Yes sir."

"And let him know that you and O'Neill will be gone for five days on this mission. You'll be leaving on Wednesday and coming back on Sunday, unless there are any delays. There is a particularly interesting natural phenomenon on that planet, and I want you to discover if any of the side effects could prove useful to us. I've arranged for the report to be sent to your lab. Read it before tomorrow's briefing."

"Of course sir," she said.

"You are dismissed, lieutenant, but keep on as you have been and you may very well regain your bars." He smiled as she rose and saluted him. He returned the gesture, and she left, feeling more than a little shaky. Such approbation from such a man was quite disturbing.

Five days. Daniel would be without friends here for five days. She hated that thought, but couldn't refuse the assignment for any reason that wouldn't bar her from visiting Daniel in any case. And she had to be . . . or at least had to seem . . . practical in Hammond's eyes.

She headed down to Daniel's room, assuming that his breakfast had surely already arrived. He was huddled on the bed, looking utterly pathetic and terribly tense and frightened, and she wondered, suddenly, if that confrontation had started in here. It had been enough to make her mouth dry with tension, what it must feel like to be the subject of the controversy, she didn't like to think about.

He looked at her and smiled. It was a ghastly expression given the misery in his eyes.

She smiled back at him and walked over. "I've got some new movies for you," she said, touching his hair gently. "It'll be okay, Daniel. It will." He didn't respond. She wanted to take him in her arms and rock him, but she wasn't sure she dared. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?" Once again, he lay silent. He wasn't ignoring her exactly, but he clearly didn't have anything to say. She squeezed his shoulder, then went and swapped the videotapes. Quickly, she took the tapes she couldn't leave with him back to her lab, then she hurried back to him.

He wasn't on the bed anymore, and the bathroom door was closed, so she turned the guest chair by the desk so that it faced the bed and the bathroom door, sat down and picked up the a novel that had undoubtedly been left by a visitor. From the look of it, it was Colonel O'Neill's.

Within moments, the bathroom door opened and Daniel emerged. He smiled when he saw her, but this smile was more genuine. "I heard the door open and I wasn't sure who I'd find out here," he said.

Her heart broke at the terror implicit in that statement. Saying something wouldn't be politic, though. She dropped the book on the table. "Did you see what movies I brought you?"

He nodded. "I've never seen any of them, so they should work out great."

"Good," she said.

He sat down on the bed, crossing his legs. "It's Monday," he commented, and she nodded, baffled by the sudden change in subject. "Hammond has made it clear that you folks are supposed to put in a full day's work rather than spending so much time with me."

"That's true," she agreed.

"Therefore, either you're risking Hammond's wrath for my sake, in which case, don't." She shook her head, mildly bemused by his words, but his next words brought her sharply back to earth. "Or you're here for a purpose."

She grimaced. "Yes. You're right. I . . . I have some things I need to tell you." _Smooth, Samantha,_ she thought. _Make it obvious that it's a big deal._

Daniel gave her a sympathetic look that nearly undid her, but she held herself together. Very gently, he said, "Tell me." He sat waiting attentively.

She cleared her throat. "SG-1 is being sent offworld on Wednesday, just the colonel, Major Kowalski and me."

There was a silence. Daniel licked his lips and tried to look unflapped by this news, but she could see the dismay that lay beneath the mask. "How long?" he asked after a moment.

"We're scheduled to be back on Sunday."

His eyes widened. "Sunday?" he repeated. She nodded and watched him do the math in his head. Then he put his finger right on the key word. "Scheduled?"

She bit her lip. "No delays are anticipated, it's a routine science survey, but it would be unfair not to let you know that –"

"I know, Samantha," he said softly. "I do the same job. So, you and Jack are going to be gone for five days. Who's in charge of me while you're gone?" She looked down, not sure what to say. "Ah," he said. "Hammond then." His tone was flat and unemotional as he fidgeted with the edge of his cast with his right hand.

"He wants you to be able to work," Samantha said. "He's . . . he's decided that you should have time outside."

Daniel looked up from his fidgeting. "Outside? Outside where?"

"Here," she said. "On the surface."

He sat forward. "You're kidding. Outside?"

"Only two hours at a time, and no more than twice a week, and only if I'm available to accompany you."

Daniel blinked at her. "It's a hell of a lot better than nothing. When?"

"I'm not sure, it has to be arranged with Dr. Warner, but I will make sure it happens at least once before I leave on Wednesday."

He leaned back again. "Who intervened on my behalf?" he asked. "I can't believe Hammond came up with that on his own." She opened her mouth, then closed it again uneasily. "Never mind, forget the question." He shook his head. "I just keep wondering what Hammond's making Jack do by threatening me."

She stared at him, but he wasn't meeting her eyes. She cleared her throat, which had the effect of drawing his attention to her. With her eyes wide and innocent, she said, "Now why would General Hammond have to threaten Colonel O'Neill to follow orders?" She widened her eyes just slightly on the last word, and Daniel blinked at her for a moment, the way he . . . the way her Daniel always had when he was confused.

He coughed, and then said, "Of course, you're right. I don't know what I was thinking."

She shrugged. "It's not important," she said. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

He shook his head. "No, I haven't, but I'm not really hungry."

She pursed her lips. "I'll have some food sent, stuff that will keep so you can eat whenever you do get hungry."

Raising his eyebrows, he shrugged slightly. "That sounds like a reasonable plan."

She narrowed her eyes. "You need to eat something, then, so the plan works."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Samantha, I will eat something, but just now my stomach's still a little unsettled."

She nodded and stood up. "I suppose I had better go. Is there anything else I can get you?"

His eyebrow quirked in appreciation of her careful phrasing. "A deck of cards would be nice," he said. "Other than that, not really."

"I'll see if the colonel and I can join you for dinner."

He smiled. "I'd like that."

She walked over and squeezed his shoulder again, then left. On her way through the halls she saw Sgt. Siler. She paused to chat with him briefly, catching his eye and putting a hand in her pocket, hoping he'd catch her reference. His eyebrows went up, but he didn't otherwise reply. They talked for a few moments more, then went their separate ways.

She went to her lab and sat down to read Dempsey's report. From the looks of things it should be a fairly straightforward science survey, and might not take nearly as long as the general had scheduled. She turned from that to ironing out a few problems that had turned up recently in the dialing program.

Colonel O'Neill stopped by her lab just after lunch, and she asked him if he wanted to have dinner with Daniel. He said he'd arrange the food, and asked her to join him for dessert afterwards at a place he knew. She agreed and he brushed his lips against her forehead and left. Life was certainly taking a surreal turn. As the door shut behind him, she wondered if this had hit the gossip tree yet.

Shrugging, she returned to work. At about three o'clock, the phone rang. Not taking her eyes off the computer screen, she picked up the receiver and said, "Carter."

"This is Colonel Makepeace. I was wondering if you could come take a look at some stuff from my last mission and see if you can make sense of it. Our science geek keeps scratching his head and sighing, so I'm guessing he's as lost as I am."

"Of course, Colonel. Give me twenty minutes to wrap up what I'm working on."

"Thank you, lieutenant," Makepeace said.

Samantha hung up and sighed. It never rained but it poured. With everything else that was going on, how she was supposed to fit the occasional drop in science visit into her schedule was beyond her. She closed down the dialing software and made a few notes to help her take up where she'd stopped in the process, then she headed down to Makepeace's office.

He showed her some very odd samples and she talked about it with Lt. Mikel Tainaga, the biochemist who was assigned to Makepeace's team. While they discussed the objects, Sgt. Siler came in and joined in the conversation. Finally, she suggested a couple of tests and Tainaga rushed off to try them, leaving her alone with Makepeace and Siler. She started to get up, but sank back in astonishment when Siler said, "I activated the jammer about five minutes ago, so we're good to go."

She stared at him and then looked over at Makepeace who shrugged with embarrassment. "I did need your help, lieutenant, but the timing was dictated by your request to Sgt. Siler this morning."

She nodded slowly. "I see, I guess."

"I'm trying to make sure to vary the locations and persons present when I use this thing to make it as untraceable as possible."

Nodding again, she licked her lips. She hadn't really counted on having Makepeace present for this conversation. As she opened her mouth to speak, though, Maybourne materialized behind Makepeace, gave her an oddly mischievous look, then tapped him on the shoulder.

The marine let out a shout of surprise and turned, glaring. "Would you _stop_ doing that!" he exclaimed angrily.

Samantha stared at the three men in total befuddlement. Maybourne, Makepeace and Siler were already working together? How long had this been going on? Was that why Siler approached her?

"It's not what you think, ma'am," Siler said. "I had no idea that you were in communication with Colonel Maybourne until he approached me after our conversation."

She blinked. "I see."

"I do believe we've rather overwhelmed you, Lt. Carter," Maybourne said with a boyish grin. "I am sorry, but what is the issue you wished to discuss with Sgt. Siler?"

Samantha raised an eyebrow. "The phase shifters aren't toys, Colonel Maybourne," she said after a moment. "If you use it too much, you're going to get caught, and there's only one person who could have given it to you."

His expression sobered instantly, and Makepeace gave her an appreciative look, which made her wonder just how many times Maybourne had surprised the marine. Maybourne nodded. "I fully comprehend the risk, Lt. Carter, and I assure you I'm not taking undue chances. It is, however, a useful and convenient way to be able to drop in on colleagues I can't openly visit."

"I suppose so," she said, "but be careful."

"Just what I said, only I didn't know you were the one who gave him the device," Makepeace said. "I assumed he'd 'borrowed' it."

"In any case, I don't have a huge amount of time right now," Samantha said, turning to Siler. "Sergeant, you're working on reverse engineering some of that Goa'uld technology they brought back from Chulak, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you think you could come up with a decent excuse for consulting with the Jaffa the general's holding?"

All three men stared at her in resounding silence. After a moment, Makepeace said, "Jaffa? What Jaffa?"

Samantha looked from one to the other of them, then said, "None of you know that Hammond has a Jaffa prisoner?" They all looked blank. She cleared her throat. "Two actually, he's controlling Teal'c by threatening his son."

"Teal'c?" Maybourne's jaw dropped with shock. "Did you say Teal'c?" She nodded. "That's the name of the Jaffa who's on SG-1 in the other reality."

Samantha's eyes widened. "No wonder Daniel looked so stunned to see him."

"Daniel?!" Maybourne shook his head. He took a step towards her. "He saw him? What's going on?"

"Maybourne, why don't you take a seat and let Lt. Carter tell us what she's talking about?" Makepeace said. "And what it has to do with Siler."

Maybourne took control of himself and sat down, waiting. Samantha shrugged. "How much do they know about your extracurricular trips, sir?" she asked.

"Siler knows nothing," Maybourne replied, "and Makepeace is fully informed."

Siler raised an eyebrow. "Do I gather that you've been visiting the reality this Daniel is from?" he asked. Maybourne nodded.

Samantha grimaced. "Yes, he has. We're trying to get Daniel home, but he's been so isolated that he's becoming desperate, and I was afraid he'd do something foolish and get himself killed. I asked Maybourne to see if his friends would send him a note written in some language that only Daniel could translate that we could slip him so he'd know what was going on." She shrugged. "I figured they could get the other Daniel, the one we left behind, to write it, but –"

"But they haven't even told that Daniel about my visits," Maybourne said. She hadn't known that. "I guess they're worried that he'd find any communication between them and us would strike him as suspicious." Samantha nodded. "But there's a Jaffa who has defected to their side and is on SG-1. He wrote the note in some archaic form of Goa'uld, mixing it up with other writing to conceal what it was. He told Daniel who he was and that they were working with us to get him free."

Samantha made some connections in her mind and blinked. "That explains a lot," she said. The others looked at her. "He . . . the Teal'c that Hammond's holding, he may not be on our side, but he's not _not_ on our side, if you follow me."

"Not really," Maybourne said.

"He lied." They all looked uncomprehending. "Hammond decided that Daniel had mistranslated the story that the other Teal'c wrote to hide the note in. He was convinced that there were military secrets hidden in it that Daniel was omitting, so he brought in the Jaffa to translate it as well."

Maybourne froze, appalled. "What?" he asked, his voice filled with dismay.

She nodded. "It was terrifying, but he lied. He told Hammond that it was just a folk tale, but if it was written by the alternate reality version of himself –"

"This is getting more than a little confusing," Siler said. "You're saying that the alternate reality . . . what was the name?"

"Teal'c."

"Teal'c. The alternate reality Teal'c wrote a note to the alternate Daniel that we're holding prisoner, which our Hammond tried to have the Teal'c from this reality translate, but the Teal'c from here lied?"

"Exactly," Samantha said. "He protected Daniel, and I don't know why. But if the Teal'c in the other reality works with Earth, I wonder if this Teal'c would work with us. He has no reason to like Hammond, and for that reason alone, he might be willing to help us if we can get rid of him."

"He's a Jaffa, lieutenant," Makepeace said. "He's one of the enemy."

Samantha shook her head. "According to Daniel, who should know, the Jaffa are indoctrinated from birth and have no choice about being what they are."

"You've discussed it with him?" Makepeace asked incredulously.

"No." She stood up and started pacing. "I saw a conversation between him and Hammond. I was eavesdropping digitally." She turned and faced Makepeace. "But here's the kicker, leaving aside the facts that the story and note were in his own handwriting and that it mentioned the identity of the alternate reality Teal'c, I really think he might have helped Daniel anyway. There was just a feeling about the whole situation . . . he could obviously tell that Daniel was a prisoner, and he was angry with the way Hammond was treating Daniel because he was a scholar. And when Teal'c mentioned 'the god Apophis,' Daniel responded with 'the false god,' and Teal'c nodded." Makepeace and Maybourne were looking at her blankly, and she pursed her lips in exasperation. "He agreed with him. I don't think Teal'c likes the Goa'uld any more than he likes Hammond, and that can't be a bad thing."

"That's what the other Teal'c called the Goa'uld," Maybourne said suddenly. "'The false gods' were his exact words."

"So what is it you want Siler to do, Carter?" Makepeace asked.

"I'm not sure now," she said. "If none of you knows about Teal'c being a prisoner, it would be a little fishy for him to request to see him."

"Maybe," Siler said. "But I have a meeting with Hammond tomorrow morning regarding the Goa'uld technology and my relative lack of progress. I could mention casually that it would be a real boon to talk to someone who had direct experience with it. He'd probably assume I was referring to Daniel since he's from an alternate reality, but he might just think of that Jaffa and offer to let me meet with him."

"It's possible, and it doesn't risk anything," Samantha said. "You could just as easily be speaking rhetorically."

"But what's he supposed to do once he gets in with the Jaffa?" Makepeace asked.

"The first time, not a damned thing," Siler said. "Just what I'm there for . . . but after that, I'll know where he's being kept and will be able to get an idea of what security measures are in place. Once I know that, I'll have a better idea of how to circumvent them. I can also start out just talking to him, seeing what he knows and thinks about things."

Makepeace looked thoughtful. "I think it would work," he said. I think it's a good idea, in fact. Just be damned careful."

"Yes sir," Siler said.

Satisfied, Samantha walked over and leaned against the wall. "All right, that's that for now. There are a few things you need to know. First, Hammond has the Jaffa's eleven-year-old son and is threatening him to ensure Teal'c's cooperation. Second, Hammond is now using Daniel as a threat against Colonel O'Neill, who is going back and forth between a delusional belief that this Daniel is our original Daniel and more rational states of mind. Regardless of which state he's in, though, he will do anything to protect Daniel."

"Shit," Makepeace said. "No wonder the man's been wandering around the base lately like an angry zombie."

"So, are you really having a relationship with him, or is that just a cover?" Maybourne asked bluntly.

"It's a cover," Samantha said as Makepeace spluttered. "It gives us an excuse to go places that aren't readily monitored and talk quietly while appearing to snuggle. He asked me to get allies since we can no longer act on our own without endangering Daniel."

"Well, you've got them," Makepeace said. "And Siler can go pursue the possibility of help from the Jaffa. When the time to act arrives, it could come to open battle in the corridors of the base, and we'll need every man we can get."

"My thinking exactly," Samantha said. "And now I've got to go. I've been here far too long. I will be meeting with Jack tonight. We're having dinner with Daniel then going out somewhere for dessert. Is there anything I should tell him when I get the opportunity?"

"Tell him you have found some allies, but don't tell him who. He's a man with a hostage . . . he's been compromised."

Samantha grimaced unhappily. "You think I don't fit into that category?" she asked.

Makepeace shrugged. "Well, you do have the added bonus of not being fruit loops."

"True," she replied. "Though I'd prefer different terminology. It's not his fault." She squirmed uneasily under their regard. "Not entirely."

"No," Maybourne agreed. "Not entirely." Makepeace nodded grim assent. "I'll show up when I can. It will probably be a few days before we can meet again in any case."

"Almost a week," Samantha corrected. Both Makepeace and Maybourne looked startled, but Siler seemed unsurprised. "SG-1 is being sent to P9N-394 as of Wednesday and we're not scheduled to be back until Sunday."

Makepeace let out a whistle. "That should make things interesting. All right, we'll get together when we can early next week. I've got some things that I'm moving on as well. You'd be better off not knowing specifics, but just know this, lieutenant. You're not alone."

She smiled. "I've never been alone, colonel, I've always had company. It's just that my companions were a prisoner from another reality and an insane man. It makes for very strange and strained conversations."

"I can imagine," Makepeace said, shaking his head sympathetically. "We'll see you later, then."

She pushed off from the wall she'd been leaning against. "Gentlemen." They nodded politely and she left.

When she got back to her lab, the phone was ringing. She rushed inside to pick it up. "Carter," she said.

"Lieutenant, it's Dr. Warner, do you have some free time this afternoon?"

Startled, she nodded. "Yes, doctor. When?"

"I thought in a hour. I'll have all the requirements that Hammond sent me ready by then. And I thought, since you'll be leaving in two days, that we should do it again tomorrow."

"I don't know my schedule tomorrow yet, but I'll have a better idea after the mission briefing."

"Give me a call then, and meet me outside Dr. Jackson's room in an hour."

"Yes, sir," she said and hung up. Walking over to her computer she sat down and peeked in on Daniel. There was a covered plate of sandwiches on the desk that showed signs of depredations, and a bowl of fruit. There was also a bar fridge near the door to the bathroom which hadn't been there that morning. Hammond had evidently decided to make some effort to give Daniel a better environment. Somehow, knowing Daniel, she suspected that it was making things worse for him emotionally. A bar fridge in the room with him implied that he wasn't getting out of that room any time soon.

She grimaced and set to work again on her programming. It wouldn't be forever. They would see to that.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Monday, April 26** _ **  
Reality L583**

"Why do we not simply go through the mirror and take DanielJackson back?" Teal'c demanded angrily. Hammond was with the visiting Daniel, keeping him company and fetching things for him, a situation Jack thought Daniel found very peculiar. When the general had relieved the Jaffa, Teal'c had come to Jack's office.

Jack leaned back in his chair. "Well, first off, we can't really get there. Carter hasn't worked out how to make the mirror activate without the controller yet, and even if she could activate it, there's the problem of working out which reality to go to."

Teal'c let out a growl. "I do not like this waiting while DanielJackson is beaten and broken."

Jack shook his head. The words called back the nightmares he'd started having, and he didn't want to think about them. They weren't productive. "Do you think I like it, Teal'c?" he asked. Clenching his fists, he stared at the Jaffa. "There's nothing we can do. As men of action, we're both finding that more than a little frustrating."

"Captain Carter will find a way, and then we should go through with explosives and weapons and take back our DanielJackson."

Eyebrows rising, Jack studied Teal'c. He was serious. "It's not quite that simple, big guy," Jack said. Teal'c raised a single brow, wordlessly asking for an explanation. "We can't just go blundering in there, not knowing where we'll turn up or how strong a force we'll be facing."

"We have the basis for a reasonable guess, do we not?" Teal'c asked. "They are an SGC, as are we. There is only so much space within the mountain for troops."

"True," Jack said, and carefully considered his next words. "And if we got caught, if we were just sighted, what do you suppose that Hammond would do to our Daniel? There's a frigging bomb in his chest, controlled by radio signal." Teal'c scowled grimly. "That Hammond sees us coming, and our Daniel's insides get scrambled. I don't want to instigate that."

Teal'c let out a snarl of fury. "We must do something!"

A voice spoke from the doorway. "We have to wait for Maybourne," Carter said, walking in and sitting down dispiritedly. "I may have made a breakthrough."

Jack blinked. Her depressed tone didn't really match her words. Before he could say anything, though, Teal'c spoke. "Surely that is good news, Captain Carter?"

"I wish it were," she said, crossing her arms. "I could probably identify which reality this Daniel was from if I had enough time and a controller, but without a miracle, it would take me a minimum of three months to run through the various possible permutations." Three months was a long time. Jack bit his lip and started to speak again, but Carter wasn't done. "And that's assuming that I could activate the mirror, which so far, I still can't. I need to have access to one of those controllers, even for five minutes, to see what the power signature that activates the damned thing is. Given all the possible factors, and combinations of factors, that could be involved, it could take me fifty . . . a hundred years . . . to work out the proper method. It's neither reasonable nor realistic. I keep trying, but as I go through the possibilities, I keep realizing that there are far too many things that I can't even simulate. And within the week, I need to get to a lab with a superconductor to see if there are any possible applications. How do I gain unlimited, totally secure access to a superconductor?"

"I'll address the question to Hammond," Jack said, but he understood her point. She could keep trying until the next century, and there was no guarantee that she'd find anything useful.

"I don't know which is worse. Not being able to do anything, or having so much to do that you know will prove useless."

Jack grimaced. "I don't know either. I just wish we knew what was going on in the other reality . . . how Daniel is."

"I do not like this inaction," Teal'c said unhappily.

"You and me both, big guy," Jack said.

Suddenly, Sgt. Harriman's voice echoed through the base. "Unscheduled offworld activation!"

Jack jumped up and turned to Carter. "Go relieve Hammond." She nodded and went out. Jack headed towards the door. "Teal'c, come with me."

They went to the control room. As they arrived, Lt. Craig stumbled alone through the gate. She looked up at Harriman and nodded for him to shut down the gate. By the time Jack reached the gateroom, the gate was dark again and Craig had thumped down to sit on the ramp. Her right arm hung uselessly from her shoulder, and her hand was covered with dried blood.

"What happened?" Jack asked, glancing at the SFs to see that one of them had called medical. Private Jones was on the phone already.

Craig's voice was firm, but she looked utterly worn out. "We found an odd sort of structure, like a small hut, with some interesting stuff inside. Captain Chen went inside instantly to look at the artifacts." Jack nodded. He had more than passing experience with archeologists and their tendencies to rush in where ordinary soldiers feared to tread. "There didn't seem to be anything wrong, so Colonel Dempsey and Lt. Tyler went in with him. I stayed in the doorway, watching for possible threats. I don't know what any of them did, but all of a sudden the door slammed shut. I dove out, but it caught my arm. It took all three of them to pull the damn thing far enough back to let me slide my arm out, but after that it seated itself solidly in its frame and couldn't be budged. They can't get out, but Chen thinks that there's something in the writings both inside and outside the building that might help us get the door open again."

Fraiser had arrived in the meantime and was looking at Craig's arm. "I've got to get her to the infirmary now, colonel," she said sharply.

"I'll be along shortly," he replied, stepping back as Fraiser and her assistants got Craig to her feet. He could see Hammond in the control room and knew he'd have to report.

The lieutenant resisted for a moment, clutching at her arm. "Sir, someone has to go get them out," she gasped urgently.

"Of course, Craig," he said. "Go with the doc. I'll be there soon."

She went, and she was barely out of the room when Hammond joined them at the gate. "What happened? Where's the rest of her team?"

Jack gave him a synopsis of what Craig had told him, and they headed together to the infirmary. When they got there, Fraiser said, "Get what information you need quickly. Her arm is crushed. We're going to have to go into surgery pretty much immediately to avoid possible complications."

Jack went to Craig's side where she was being prepared for surgery. "Is there anything else you think we need to know?" he asked.

"We were about seven miles out from the gate," she said, her eyes glazing over from the pain, but she hung onto consciousness tenaciously, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "There's a path, kind of old and winding, but if you follow it, you should find them, especially with the beacons. And Chen said the only person who had any hope of translating the inscriptions was Daniel Jackson."

Hammond's lips tightened. "Anything else?" he asked gently.

"No, sir, just get them out."

"We'll take care of things, lieutenant," Hammond said. "You just let Dr. Fraiser take care of you."

Craig nodded and lay her head back on the pillow. Fraiser shooed them out and they went. "We can't send Daniel," Hammond said. "It's out of the question."

Jack nodded. "Aside from the fact that it wouldn't be safe and wouldn't be fair to him, can you imagine what Fraiser would do to us if we even suggested it?"

"It does not bear thinking about," Teal'c said blandly.

Hammond grimaced. "What do you suggest, colonel?"

"I think Teal'c and I need to go, and we need to take a camera," Jack said without a pause. "We take another team with us to leave at the gate. When we get to the shack or whatever it is, we contact the team at the gate who open the wormhole and we start sending back images to Daniel, so he can translate for us."

"That's pretty much what I was thinking. Get things set up, colonel. Do you want Carter with you or here on base?"

Jack contemplated. It was difficult to say. It might be better to have her handy to her lab, but on the other hand, it would probably be better to have her on site so she could make her magic immediately if that turned out to be possible. She could always return to the base if necessary. "With us, I think, so I don't know who you can leave with Daniel."

"Daniel will stay with me. I'll have Teal'c put him in a wheelchair so we can get him to the office when the time comes. That way he won't have to request references from across the base. Between us, I think Rothman and I can manage to get him everything he might need."

Jack nodded. "Sounds like a plan," he said. "I'll go get my team prepped. Who do you want to send with us?"

"Makepeace and SG-3, I think," Hammond said. "There haven't been any signs of hostile locals on P(string), but it's as well to be prepared."

"Works for me," Jack said.

Their plan hit a serious hitch though when they presented it to Daniel. "Why aren't you taking me along?" he asked bluntly. "Cameras can only do so much. We need on site translation, and I can't do that from the base."

Hammond shook his head. "You have a broken foot and two broken ribs. We're not sending you to a potentially hostile –"

"The only hostility the team experienced was from a building," Daniel objected irritably. "I don't see how that makes any sense."

"We've only seen maybe ten square miles of the planet, though, Daniel," Jack said. "We don't know for certain that there aren't any people. I won't take someone who's at such an extreme disadvantage."

The archeologist's eyes narrowed. "If this is about my having been abused in that alternate reality, you've already proven that you're nice guys, so –"

Jack glared. "Would your Jack let you go along on something like this as injured as you are?"

"That's beside the point!" Daniel growled.

Jack grinned tightly at him. Like hell it wasn't the point, it proved the point. "Fine. Teal'c, get him into the wheelchair."

"You can't take me over terrain like that in a wheelchair," Daniel protested.

"I'm not taking you anywhere," Jack said. "Hammond and Rothman are going to take you to your office." Daniel's jaw dropped. He'd clearly taken Jack's reaction for assent. "Carter is already getting a monitor set up in there so that you can do your translation with as many of your linguistic resources around you as possible. She, Teal'c and I are going to the structure with a camera, and that's as good as it gets." Daniel started to speak but Jack just shook his head and uttered a monosyllabic nonsense sound that shut him up. "I'll be in touch," he said, and then left, the sound of Daniel's annoyed ranting followed him down the hall.

Makepeace didn't need any coaching to be ready to go, so Jack just checked to make sure that he was fully aware of the situation, and then headed to Daniel's office. Carter looked up and said, "Siler's getting our equipment together. You need to go see him to get fitted out. He's in my lab, I believe."

Jack nodded. "Daniel's not pleased, so be prepared for it if he shows up before you go."

She tilted her head. "Not pleased? What's he upset about?"

"He thinks he ought to go along," Jack said, rolling his eyes. "What is it about them? Our Daniel would pull the same crap."

She shrugged. "He's Daniel. I guess that's all there is to it."

He snorted. "All right. Meet us in the gateroom as soon as things are set up here."

"Yes sir."

He went down to the locker room and suited up, then headed over to Carter's lab. Siler gave him the cameras and fitted the transmission gear into a harness on his back. The camera fit into a holster on his hip so that it wouldn't occupy his hands and get in the way if he needed to defend himself at any point. He went down to the gateroom where he found Makepeace's team ready and waiting. Teal'c was there, too, so all they were waiting on was Carter. She arrived a moment after he did through the opposite door. "Is everyone ready?" Jack asked.

"SG-3 is ready to go," Makepeace said. Jack nodded and glanced at his team members who both signaled their readiness. Jack looked at Harriman through the control room window and gave him a thumbs up, and the gate started spinning.

It took about two hours to make the walk to the location that Craig had described. As they got closer, the path was made easier to follow not only by the beacons that were communicating Dempsey and the others' position but also by the drips of blood from Craig's injury, which got more frequent as they approached.

They'd made radio contact with Dempsey as soon as they'd arrived, and Carter was making periodic checks. Jack just kept wishing that Daniel . . . his Daniel . . . was at his side, where he belonged.

* * *

**Reality A001**

Daniel gazed up at the sky. It was a clear, chill blue with little wisps of white cloud decorating it. The air was crisp and very clear this high up on the mountain. Unfortunately it was not quiet. Between the six guards, Dr. Warner and Samantha, there was quite a convention up here on the mountainside. He'd walked somewhat apart from them to sit down on a rock, but he devoutly wished he was alone. That wasn't an option, of course. He might slip away to . . . he shook his head. He had nowhere to go. Didn't Hammond realize that the only thing he wanted was to go home? Sneaking away from the mountain wasn't going to achieve that.

He sighed and closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of the sun on his skin, the fresh breeze in his hair, but his enjoyment of this rare moment of peace was spoiled by the chattering of the guards. It was making him ready to scream. After several moments of trying to put it out of his mind, he stood up. His sudden movement caught everyone's attention, and he felt like laughing and cursing at the same time. He was such a dangerous fellow, after all. Clearing his throat, he said, "Look, would you guys mind shutting up for awhile?"

Samantha had been engaging in conversation with Warner, but she looked up at Daniel's words with a dismayed expression. "Of course, Daniel," she said. "I'm sorry."

The guards all looked startled, but Daniel turned his back on them. He didn't want either sympathy or annoyance, and he suspected he'd get both. He wanted these people to show him the respect he deserved by allowing him to return to his home.

What were his Jack and Sam and Teal'c doing right now? Had Hammond put them on stand down as a team because they were missing a member? How was the Daniel who'd been so terribly injured? In his note, Teal'c had said he was recovering, but how badly had he actually been hurt to start off with? And how much of it had actually come from Hammond's goons rather than Jack?

Daniel shook his head. He didn't want to think about Hammond, he wanted to think about . . . he just wanted to stop thinking. He walked over to the edge of this little plateau and gazed out over the countryside. The silence behind him was almost as oppressive as the conversations had been. He couldn't win.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump sideways and turn. Samantha stared at him in shock. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I didn't mean –"

He shook his head. "It's not your fault. I'm just a little paranoid."

"Who could blame you after all that's happened?" she said, smiling sympathetically. She stepped towards him again and glanced over her shoulder. He looked too, and saw that no one was closer to them than fifteen feet. But surely . . . the location of this trip had to have been known. She turned towards him. "Hammond didn't think to ask us to identify our destination this time. We can't count on him not thinking of that in the future."

"Samantha, there are such things as parabolic mikes, and –"

"And anything like that will prove startlingly unuseful on this occasion. I have a little bit of a help that no one here knows about."

He blinked. "I see. Subtle enough, I take it, not to be noticed as interference?"

"I do believe they've started to look for possible geomagnetic sources for the persistent problem that's cropped up in quite a bit of our surveillance equipment," she said, glancing around. "There's a comfortable looking place to sit." He nodded wordlessly, surprised by this development, and followed her to the rock outcropping that she'd indicated.

"I'm guessing that you've got something to say," Daniel said after they'd been sitting for a few minutes. "Or you wouldn't have made quite such a point of the lack of surveillance."

"I've got a lot of things to say," she replied. "I'm just not altogether sure where to start."

"Well, we have limited time," he said.

"We do." She sighed. "We, several others and I, are trying to get you home, but it's going to take time. For one thing the mirror isn't on this base any longer, and it's not in Hammond's control."

He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. "That has a wide variety of implications," he said. Both positive and negative, he thought, but didn't say aloud.

She nodded. "Maybourne has been in contact with your people. You really have to try to hold on. Do what you have to so that you don't get killed."

He looked at her. "Jack . . . my Jack . . . would very much appreciate your saying that, but I can't trade my life for the lives of others, particularly not those of children."

Grimacing, she shook her head. "Leaving that aside, let me tell you some people you can trust. In case . . ."

"I understand," he said hastily, not wanting more details. Missions could go terribly wrong.

"Sgt. Siler and Colonel Makepeace are working with me, as well as Lt. Colonel Maybourne."

"That's good to know." Siler wasn't a surprise, but Makepeace? A little unexpected.

"Dr. Warner is on your side, believe it or not. He didn't have any way of refusing the order to . . . to do what he did."

"Yes, well, on my side or not, he needs to learn to control his tongue," Daniel remarked. "There are moments when I have Jack and Hammond in that little room with me when I want to hit Jack for saying stupid things. Warner did that today. It's like they don't realize that Hammond likes hurting me, that he'll seize on whatever excuse he can to do it." He paused. "Why did he hate the original Daniel here so much?"

"There are a lot of reasons. Because he was like you," she said. "He believed that his own moral and ethical beliefs trumped Hammond's orders."

"That annoys both my Jack and my General Hammond, but they don't behave like this."

She shrugged. "Our Hammond is a greedy bastard, and he doesn't give a damn what he has to do to accomplish his goals. He resented the influence Danny had on Colonel O'Neill. The two of them were incredibly close, and there was nothing Hammond could do to split that up. Then, every Daniel we've had since the original who has had contact with people on base has gotten at least some of those people to try to help him. Never the colonel, but Hammond doesn't approve of a man who can so easily sway military personnel from what he regards as their duty."

"I see. It explains a lot. His little talks to me have been more than a little disturbing."

"I can imagine. You like your Hammond?"

"I trust him," Daniel said. "He's a very kind and gentle man, even if he is occasionally a little too military for my tastes."

She snorted. "Well, my father was going to try and get this Hammond retired before his cancer . . ." Daniel put an arm around her shoulders as it became clear that she was fighting back tears. "Is he dead in your reality? Did he have cancer?"

"He did," Daniel said, wondering how truthful he should be. "He's . . . he's blended with a Tok'ra."

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. "He's . . . what does he do?"

"He's Tok'ra," Daniel said, shrugging. "He comes back every so often, but most of the time we don't see him."

"But he's alive," she said, almost desperate.

"He is. He and Hammond are actually friends."

"That just seems so odd," she said. They sat in silence for a few moments while she absorbed this information. Daniel wondered what was going on in her head. Finally, she cleared her throat. "There is something else I need to tell you. Hammond is now convinced that I'm showing the proper practical attitude towards you and your presence here, so I'm still trying to find the balance for how I can behave with you."

Daniel pursed his lips. "Practical how?" he asked. "Greedy practical, or what? What would he be likely to believe of you?"

She bit her lip. "Not the level of ruthlessness he shows, I don't think. I've been too outspoken in the other direction. Practical in terms of wanting you to be able to do your job and stay useful to the SGC."

He nodded slowly. "Well, then, I'd say you could probably get away with behaving much as you have been. If he thinks you're practical in that sense, he'll put his own interpretation on your motives. You're getting me ice packs not because you're a gentle soul who wants me not to be in pain, but because you recognize that a man in pain will do substandard work. It's a question of avoiding any actions that it would be difficult to put a 'practical' construction on."

"That makes sense," she said. "I think I can do that."

"Good," he said, smiling. They didn't speak again for several minutes. A dark cloud bank was moving in and Daniel hoped the rain it portended wouldn't reach them before he was supposed to go inside. He sighed. "Does Jack really believe I'm your original Daniel?"

She paused, and he sensed the same sort of reservations he'd had earlier when they were discussing her father. She was trying to decide what she should tell him. Finally, she said, "Sometimes. Almost all the time when he's with you."

"How . . ." He cleared his throat. "How did your Daniel die?"

"It was an accident," she said, confirming his suspicion. "I don't . . . the colonel used to discipline Danny pretty severely when he'd disobey orders or do something that nearly got him killed. You've got to understand. He loved Danny like a brother, and if anything happened to him, he'd go berserk."

Daniel nodded. "I kind of guessed some of that."

"Well, things got a little out of hand and Danny hit his head. There was nothing to be done to save him, and he died."

"And Jack went crazy."

"With a little help from Hammond and the . . . did you know they're giving him drugs?"

"Teal'c mentioned it in the note," Daniel said. "He said that Jack was being given stuff to make him more aggressive."

"That helped to exacerbate the problem that led to Danny's death," Samantha said. Daniel tilted his head curiously. "Danny was being given drugs to make him more passive. It wasn't a good combination."

"Hammond probably thought it was funny," Daniel said disgustedly.

"Probably," Samantha said unhappily. "But the funny thing is that I don't think he got what he wanted out of it. Daniel still objected to theft and unwarranted harsh treatment, and the colonel still backed him up. He might take a little more convincing, but it still happened most of the time. All it did was make their relationship a step more unhealthy than it was to begin with."

"And lead to your Daniel's death, and thus my presence here," Daniel said. The dark clouds were coming closer. "We're due for a storm," he said.

"In more ways than one," she agreed. "The colonel is genuinely pissed off at Hammond, so you need to be prepared for just about anything. He's unpredictable, and while he wants to protect you, he also wants to get Hammond, and there's no telling which goal will be uppermost in his mind at any given moment."

"Terrific," Daniel said. He shook his head. "I really appreciate all the stuff you're doing for me. I know that it's a big risk. That night with Teal'c, I thought we were done for."

"Me too," she said. "Can you tell me a little bit about the Teal'c in your reality? I don't know if it will help in ours, but it might."

Daniel shrugged. "I can, but as you said, I don't know how much it will help. Let's see . . . Ryac is his son, and in our reality he already has a Goa'uld symbiote because he nearly died of an illness. He defected from Apophis when . . . do you know who Sha're is?"

"Daniel's wife?" Samantha said, her voice subdued. "I met her briefly, once, when I joined the team. That was right before Apophis raided Abydos, taking both her and her brother. She died when Apophis tried to put a Goa'uld in her. We haven't really figured out why, though Daniel thinks . . . thought . . . that she fought back mentally, and the Goa'uld killed her."

Daniel blinked. "My Sha're isn't dead," he said, wondering if that was right. His Sha're had shown possible signs of defying her Goa'uld captor, but as far as they knew she was still alive. As far as they knew . . . He gulped, remembering the last time he saw his wife, as she walked away from him with Apophis, protecting them by her silence. "When we tried to retrieve her, on my first mission with the SGC, she had already been Goa'ulded, and so we couldn't . . . we . . ." He bit back on his emotional reaction and forced himself back under control. "She's controlled by Amunet. But when we went after her and Skaara, Teal'c helped us escape the fortress and joined us."

Samantha's voice was quiet and full of concern when she responded. "Wow, that must have . . . she's not dead, though?"

"No, she's still with Apophis," Daniel said, his voice breaking. "She's . . . we're still trying to get her and Skaara back."

"You'll do it, I'm sure," Samantha said, squeezing his hand.

Daniel took a deep breath. "Anyway, Teal'c . . ." He contemplated the quiet man back home. "Our Teal'c is a man of honor and integrity. He would do anything to defeat the false gods who have enslaved his people for so long, and he's not the only one. Not all of the Jaffa are willing dupes, and some of those who believe what they have been taught can be brought to understand the truth and fight against the Goa'uld. Without the Jaffa, we wouldn't be where we are today. It was Teal'c's mentor, Bray'tac, who made it possible for us to survive the attack on Earth by Apophis and Klorel."

"The Jaffa fought for you?"

Daniel shook his head. "They fought with us. Jack, Sam, Teal'c and I went through the gate to Klorel's ship, not that we knew it was a ship, but . . ." He shook his head – he was getting bogged down in irrelevancies. "We wound up getting captured, but Bray'tac freed us and his rebel Jaffa helped us to destroy both ships. Many of them died in the process. We all almost died . . . it was a near thing."

"We sent two platoons of marines," Samantha said. "None of them came back, but both ships were destroyed."

"Wow," Daniel said. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, that must have been awful."

"It wasn't pretty. The president was furious."

"Because so many people died?" Daniel asked.

She gave him a disbelieving look. "You must have a much more appealing president than we have. He wasn't angry because of the loss of life. He was pissed because he didn't get anything out of it. No poll boosting headlines, no technology, just eighty men dead with nothing to show for it."

"Except for fact that the planet wasn't destroyed."

"That's not very tangible. Kinsey thinks in terms of tangible benefits."

Daniel stared at her. "Kinsey's president here, and you still have a stargate program?"

"God, yes, he wants to take America's 'manifest destiny' out to the stars."

"If ours were president, he'd have the gate wrapped in mothballs so quickly, we'd never see it again. We might not even have time to bring all our teams home first." He shook his head. "Manifest destiny? Did he really say that?"

"More than once," Samantha said. "It gets old."

"I'd imagine." He grimaced. "Teal'c, though. I told you his mentor is Bray'tac. His wife is Drey-Auc, and they have just the one son, Ryac."

"Thank you." He could see her storing up the information for future use. "Anything else?"

He shrugged. "I'm not altogether certain. Those things should probably be the same, but I don't know what else might be. If I tell you too much that's not the same as it is here, it might be the opposite of helpful."

"I can see that," she said. "On the other hand it might persuade him that the alternate reality thing makes sense. What did he see in that note? Is there any chance he could have been misled by what your Teal'c wrote?"

"Not unless he's stupid," Daniel said frankly, shaking his head. "No, he lied, flat out, with Ryac's health on the line. I mean, he did have the benefit of knowing that if Hammond was calling on _him_ to double check my translation, there wasn't anyone else who could do it, which measurably lowers the chance that he'd be caught, but still . . ."

"Yes, I agree. It says something. I'm not sure what, but something."

"As for the note, Teal'c identified himself by name, spoke to me directly using Goa'uld equivalents for my name and for Maybourne's. He said he was the Teal'c from my reality. There is a very puzzled Jaffa in whatever cell Hammond's keeping him in, wondering just how we came to be in possession of a note written in his hand regarding people and events he knows nothing of and using as camouflage a story his father told him when he was very young." Daniel shook his head. "He told me two versions of it, by the way. The one his wife knew, and the one he knew, and there were small but significant differences between them. That's got to be something else this Teal'c found a little odd. The version that was written down was a merging of the two versions that he and Drey-Auc worked out between them to tell their son, a compromise. It's a very personal thing, between him and his wife. That, too, has got to be startling him."

The first spatters of rain started, huge cold drops. "Ma'am, I think we'd better get inside," said one of the guards.

"A few more minutes, please," Daniel said urgently, and Samantha nodded dubiously for the soldier's benefit.

"Just a few," she said, waving the guard off. Unwillingly, the man went. She turned to Daniel. "Okay, if Hammond asks you why I spent so much time talking to you privately, tell him it was a 'pep talk' of sorts. I was telling you how much better things could be if you cooperate, how much worse things could get if you don't. Is there anything you desperately want that I could realistically ask him for?"

"Music," Daniel said instantly. "Unlimited. I can work with music playing, and I can't bear the constant silence. Surely a cd player wouldn't be that much to ask for."

"I'll see what I can do. But be warned, if I do get it for you, Hammond will probably play games with it."

"I know," Daniel said. "I'm familiar with bullies. That's all your Hammond is, a bully with power."

There was a brilliant flash of light, and the guard came forward again. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but it's not safe up here for any of us in an electrical storm."

Daniel nodded and got up. As they headed back inside, he wondered if getting hit by lightning would set the bomb off or short it out. It probably wasn't worth finding out. He looked up at the incredible shades of gray that made up the storm clouds and tried not to wonder if he'd ever see the sky again.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Monday, April 26** _ **  
Reality L583**

It was getting very late planetside. Teal'c and Carter had put up tents for them, and the prisoners inside the hut were preparing to bed down for the night. Hammond had sent another team to help them keep watch. They'd arrive in about twenty or thirty minutes.

Jack was busy, however, panning the camera over every available surface. "Back to the left a little, would you Jack?" asked Daniel in his ear.

Obediently, he followed the instructions, though he was fairly certain he'd already covered that spot more than once. Though it was quite dark, they had plenty of light for this because Carter's first act upon their arrival was the erection of several battery-powered light stands. She'd also handed a set in to the men inside the hut, together with their own camera that used Jack's backpack transmitter to send the images back to the MALP that was at the gate. They'd shut the gate down repeatedly, all throughout the day, but Daniel kept calling for it to be opened again.

"Chen, pan right, down about six inches," Daniel said. "This is . . . I thought . . . hand me that would you, sir?" Obviously he was talking to Hammond. Jack just kept his camera pointing steadily at the place he'd last been directed to. "Jack, stay right where you are, and don't just train the camera on the wall in front of you, watch the wall with your eyes as well. Chen, would you just touch that third symbol from the right very gently?"

"Are you sure, Daniel?" Chen asked.

"Yes. It won't hurt anything, it's more in the nature of a test."

Chen did as he was told and Jack watched the wall, wondering what he was looking for. When the symbol that was centered in his lens shifted, glittered briefly, then settled into another shape, he nearly dropped the camera, though. "What the hell is that?" he exclaimed.

"The reason I need to be there and not here," Daniel said. "Damn it! There's an interactive element to this, and I don't know what it is. Sir, I really need to go there."

"Daniel –" Jack started, but Hammond was already talking so he stopped.

"Dr. Jackson, it's not up for discussion."

Jack could almost see the irritable expression on Daniel's face. When he spoke, all traces of his undoubted annoyance were veiled, though. "Jack, stay where you are. In fact, if you have a tripod, you might want to set it up on this particular spot. Sir, can you get five or six other cameras sent out there? Would that work? Is the transmitter up to it?"

"Why do you need more cameras?" Hammond asked.

"There are several points that change externally when things happen internally, and I need to get an idea of just how they change."

"We'll send more cameras, and if the transmitter isn't up to it, then we'll send another one. Captain Carter, are you monitoring this?"

"Yes sir," she said. "This transmitter can handle up to four cameras. Past that and we will need another. Didn't you send two more cameras with SG-7 already?"

"I did," Hammond said.

"That won't be enough," Daniel interjected. "It's a good start, but . . ." He paused, and Jack knew what was coming. In a tone of desperation he exclaimed, "I need to be there!" From the complete lack of reaction inside the hut, Jack knew he'd switched his transmission to private mode. He switched his own over. Now only Jack, Hammond and Daniel could hear what they said. "Sir! I need to be able to –"

"It's not happening, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said. "Unless there is a more immediate danger to Dempsey and his men, we are not risking you. I'll send more cameras out with an additional transmitter in the morning. In the meantime, I think everyone needs to get some rest."

"Sir, I know you're concerned about my physical ability to deal with the strain of a mission like this, but I need to be on site."

"By seven tomorrow morning, there will be eight cameras on site, hooked to eight monitors, and you can flip from monitor to monitor," Hammond explained. Daniel made a protesting sound. "You'll be able to see opposite sides of the building at the same time, which you wouldn't be able to do if you were there."

"Sir, that's great, but –"

"I believe it's time for us to turn in at this end, colonel," Hammond said. "I'm getting the evil eye from Dr. Fraiser that suggests that I have been keeping her patient from his bed for far too long. There are no signs thus far of problems, I take it? Dempsey, Chen and Tyler don't appear to be in any danger?"

Jack shook his head. "No sir. Before you guys go, though, can you tell me, Daniel, just what it is you think is happening?"

"I'm not altogether sure, Jack. There's a couple of things that have occurred to me. I need to have a long talk with Sam, and from the steely look in Dr. Fraiser's eyes, I'm not going to get the opportunity to anytime soon. Would you tell her what you saw and then ask her to think about the ways naquadah could be caused to do that and possible purposes?"

"Sure, Daniel," Jack said. "Get some rest."

"This is stupid. It would probably take me half the time or less to solve this problem if I was there."

"Good night, Daniel," Jack said, feeling enormous sympathy for this Daniel's Jack. It seemed as if they had the same kind of problems. "Good night, general." He also felt for Hammond, who couldn't just disconnect.

Daniel muttered something that sort of sounded like good night and then they shut the wormhole down.

Jack looked around at his camp. Teal'c had a good fire going and would have some MREs ready to eat as soon as they were ready to sit down. Carter was rigging up a tripod. Jack activated his radio on one of the general frequencies. "Makepeace, you guys settled down for the night?"

"Yes, Colonel O'Neill," the marine said. "Has SG-7 gotten to you yet?"

"Just arriving now," Jack said. "Don't look like they had any problems. If you have a situation come up, get a call to us and then go back through the gate so they have some warning."

"Yes sir," Makepeace said. "I got it, O'Neill. Good night."

"Good night."

Jack let Travis set up his own perimeter, settling down with Teal'c and Carter to eat dinner. He passed on Daniel's words and she looked thoughtfully at the little hut. She didn't say anything, though, so he figured he'd let her stew it over as long as it took.

"Well, I'm heading to bed," Jack said when he'd finished his beef stew. "See you all bright and early in the morning."

He went and lay down on his bedroll in the tent Teal'c had set up for him. Under these same circumstances, his Daniel would be pulling the same stunts, begging to be allow to risk his life all the while claiming there wasn't any real risk. He wondered if that Hammond was going to shove him through a gate with a broken arm, or if he'd at least let his injury heal first.

He rolled over and tried to still his mind for sleep, hoping he wouldn't have any nightmares tonight. They were bad enough at home in his own bed. Here, in a tent, on another planet, where he expected any moment to have Daniel stick his head in the end of the canvas structure and tell him about the incredibly exciting and fascinating ruin he'd just spotted on the horizon . . . it would be almost unbearable.

* * *

**Reality A001**

Dinner with Daniel was steak cooked just the way each of them liked it. Samantha was surprised to find that the colonel remembered their preferences, it had been so long since they'd eaten together as a group. The four of them used to have dinner together fairly frequently.

She wondered as they ate salad and steak whether Kowalski felt left out . . . if he even noticed that they were doing things without him. How long had it been? When had things changed? Why hadn't she noticed? It was like the world had been falling apart all around her for the last year and she hadn't seen anything that extended past her toes. Things kept turning up that were different . . . and she'd never noticed the change.

One of the women she used to work with had left the SGC altogether, and that had slipped completely under her radar. Captain Abercromie was now Major Abercrombie, and headed the entire maintenance department. Worse of all, there were three soldiers she'd known since she started here who had died in the past four months and she'd simply assumed she was consistently missing them. Announcements had been made, services held, but she'd stopped reading that kind of e-mail, so she'd missed them.

How many of the others had become as disconnected as she had without realizing it? How addictive were these drugs, and how were they going to handle getting off them again? There were too many questions with no answers, and she was in danger of going as far in the direction of anxiety as she had towards apathy, which would prove no more beneficial.

Maybe Maybourne could find her something to help counteract the drugs. She couldn't stop taking them, after all. They were administered on a regular schedule, and she didn't dare break from schedules. It was frustrating, but if she deviated in any way from expected behavior, it might make Hammond suspicious. That was the last thing they needed, especially now, when Hammond had become convinced that she was on his side. At this point, if he decided she wasn't, she'd be labeled a traitor in his mind, and she already knew what Hammond did to traitors. It wasn't something she wanted to experience first hand.

"Samantha?" There was mild concern in Daniel's voice and she looked up, startled to find that both men were staring at her. She smiled ruefully, and Daniel's tension relaxed. "What planet were you on?" he asked.

"This one, just elsewhere."

"I just asked if you guys wanted to stay for a movie," Daniel said. "I've got _Guys and Dolls_ , _Arsenic and Old Lace_ and _The Thirteenth Warrior_."

The desire to spend more time with them was blazing irresistibly in Daniel's eyes. "I'm up for a movie," she said. "What about you, sir?"

"Sure," the colonel said. " _Aresenic and Old Lace_ sounds good, unless you have a preference, Danny."

She glanced over at Daniel, who looked like he'd thought of something he didn't dare say. "I'm open," he said after a moment, smiling. The two of them sat down on the bed, which was the closest thing the room had to a sofa, and Samantha sat down on the floor in front of them, on a blanket Daniel insisted she fold up as a cushion. By the time the movie was over, Daniel was falling asleep. Samantha glanced up at the time and saw that, even though the lights hadn't been shut off yet, it was well past eleven.

She and the colonel left Daniel climbing into bed, and when they were in the elevator heading to the surface, he spoke her thoughts. "Hammond seems to be easing up on him a little. His own fridge, late lights out . . ." He shook his head. "What does it mean?"

"It means he wants him to adjust," Samantha said. "We'll have to do what we can to help him." The colonel's eyes widened ever so slightly and she glanced at the ceiling, trying to remind him that they were being monitored.

"You know I'd do everything in my power to help Daniel," he said.

"Yes sir," she said brightly. "So are we still on for dessert?"

His eyebrows went up. "I'm glad you reminded me." Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he handed them to her as they got off the elevator. "Wait for me in the truck." Baffled, she did as he asked. He showed up about fifteen minutes later and deposited a small ice chest in the truck bed before climbing in. Like on their previous outing, he drove around the countryside for awhile till he found a suitably isolated location. They got out and walked over to sit under a tree, and he produced dessert. Fresh, succulent strawberries with sweetened cream. It was luscious, and provided an odd background for their conversation.

She told him that they had allies, and that she had some things that she was working on. Before she could even explain that the allies wanted to remain anonymous, he said, "Don't tell me too many details. I don't want to be able to betray people if . . ." He shook his head and she gazed at him in concern. "If Hammond threatens Danny . . . or Daniel . . . or . . . if Hammond threatens him, I don't know what I'll do.

She snuggled closer against him. He'd pulled her close again as soon as they sat down. "I understand, sir," she said. "So . . . what did you think of the Jaffa Hammond's holding?"

"He tried to protect Daniel without even knowing him," he said. "I'm all for that. I've looked in on his son, and he barely looks as old as Daniel said he was."

She nodded. He was prepared to accept the Jaffa as an ally, she thought. That was a big step in the right direction, assuming that Teal'c wanted to be an ally to begin with. The night was a bit nippy, but reclining against Jack's chest with his arms around her waist warmed her. "Hammond has come to believe that I've grown practical with regard to Daniel."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I said some things today that implied that I was more interested in keeping Daniel working than in anything else. The general heard what he wanted to hear, so he liked what he heard."

"That's good, I suspect," the colonel said.

She nodded. "But it does mean I have to be very careful what I say when Hammond might hear me. Now that he thinks I'm on his side . . ."

O'Neill nodded his understanding. "How was the trip to the surface?"

"Curtailed by the weather, unfortunately," she said, remembering the glum look on Daniel's face as they'd gone back down into the mountain. "But I took a cue from you and managed to set it up so that we couldn't be monitored."

"So you were able to talk to him?" Jack asked. She nodded. "Is he okay? I mean, does he seem like himself?"

She drew sideways, trying to tell which man she was talking to. Was this the Colonel O'Neill who knew that the Daniel they'd had dinner with tonight was a prisoner from an alternate reality, or was this the one who believed that their Danny was inexplicably back from the dead and locked in a small room in the base?

O'Neill met her eyes and gave her an uneasy smile. "I mean, I know you don't really know if he's like himself. You met him the same day I did." His eyes went very distant and unreadable. "If not in quite the same way I did. But is he . . . does he seem to be coping with the horrors we're putting him through?" His voice broke on the word 'horrors' and she took his hand impulsively.

"He seems to be holding himself together, Jack," she said. "He did say . . . sir, you have to remember that if you have confrontations with Hammond in that room . . ." She shrugged. "When you and Hammond fight in there, Daniel has to witness it and Hammond has him ready to hand if he decides to make a point."

The colonel's face hardened. "Don't I know it," he said. "But . . . God, I wish this was over. I wish I could take it all back. How many men . . . Daniels . . . have I crippled in the course of this? From how many Jack O'Neills have I stolen their closest friends? I can't remember anymore." He shook his head. "What kind of man am I to do this?"

"Confused and ill," she said gently. "Try not to dwell on it. We'll fix what we can after we deal with Hammond."

"What can we fix?" he asked pathetically.

She pulled him into her arms and cradled him close. "Don't worry about it now, Jack. There's no point in spending a lot of energy on something we can't do anything about right now."

"I want Danny back," he said. "I want to turn the clock back six months and get help so I don't smash him into a wall and . . . and . . . kill . . . him." He was speaking and breathing raggedly, tears flowing down his face. "Samantha, did I kill any of the others? Are they dead? I can't . . . I don't think I could . . . if I killed another one . . ."

She squeezed him tightly and kept rocking him. "Hush," she said. "None of them were dead when they left us."

"But –"

"But nothing," she said persuasively. "We'll deal with that issue when the time comes. Right now there's not anything we can do about it."

"No, there's not," he said, his voice very quiet.

"We need to focus on things we can affect."

"There's damn all that I can do," he said savagely.

"I know," she said, reaching up to cup his cheek, trying to soothe the anger away. Both anger and self-hatred were dangerous right now. She had to head them off. "But you're doing everything you can, aren't you?"

His eyes met hers, terrifyingly naked of masks. "Let's see, frightening that poor man, alarming you, irritating Hammond . . . yeah, I do think I'm doing everything I possibly can to screw things up even more than they already are."

"Sir –"

"Jack," he corrected.

"Jack, Daniel knows what's going on now, and I'm okay."

"I notice you don't have any consoling words about Hammond," he said. He gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm being a barrel of laughs, aren't I?" Shifting, he pulled her into the circle of his arms. "We have quite a pickle on our hands, don't we Samantha Carter?"

"Oh yeah," she said, relaxing against him. "I'm only just realizing how big a mess it all is."

He was silent for a few moments, then he said, "I don't know how aware of it you are, but you're going to want to be careful what you say around Charlie."

"Kowalski?" she asked.

"Yes." He sighed. "I'm afraid he may not be . . . retrievable . . . when this is all over. He was never very . . . I used to have to rein him in a little on missions, you know."

Samantha nodded. There had been moments when Kowalski had strayed a little into the 'grab first, ask questions later if ever' way of doing things. He'd always fallen in line when the colonel spoke, though.

"He's been going out a lot without us, and . . . well, the people on those teams have all been very careful, very . . . circumspect . . . in the wording of their reports, but I got the straight truth from a couple of them, and it's not a pretty picture." She shivered. "Are you cold?" he asked

"Not on the outside," she replied. "I just keep feeling like things are falling apart." She bit her lip, realizing that she really shouldn't have said that to him.

He squeezed her and sighed. "And I'm no help to you in that department right now. I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes, trying to control the tears that were rising to the surface. "It's all right, sir."

He kissed her neck right behind her ear, sending goose pimples all over her body. "No, it's not," he said softly. "It's not remotely fair to you to make you bear this burden alone. I wish . . . but I can't promise that I'll be any better than I have been when we go back to the base tomorrow."

She turned her head. "Knowing that you're still in there is enough," she said. Their faces were very close together, his eyes on hers. He bent just slightly, and their lips touched gently. A few moments later he broke away, eyes wide. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and she stared at him her breath coming more quickly than she'd expected. "It's a cover, not . . . I'm sorry."

She caught his face in her hands. "It's all right," she said.

"No, I . . . it's wrong when I . . ."

She leaned up and kissed him for a long moment, then drew away. "It's all right, Jack."

He smiled and leaned close again. It must have been thirty minutes later when he next spoke. "Have we covered what needs to be covered?"

She took a deep breath and tried to pull business back into her mind. "Allies achieved, Daniel coping, not sure what else we can discuss."

"Nothing," he said. "Samantha, I'm sorry. I screwed up royally."

"You had help," she replied. "Please, try to focus on what we can do to fix it. Right now all you can do is maintain your temper and get the job done."

He nodded grimly. "And do whatever Hammond wants."

She sighed. "And do whatever Hammond wants," she agreed.

He kissed her once more, then helped her to her feet. "We have to be able to get up to go to work tomorrow morning. So, are we to the point of staying the night at someone's house?"

She looked up at him. This wasn't wise, this wasn't sensible, the man was insane. On the other hand, they did have a cover to uphold, and . . . she stopped trying to rationalize it. She stood up on tip toe and pressed a kiss to his lips. "My place," she said.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Tuesday, April 27** _ **  
** **Reality L583**

By an hour past dawn local time, they got the eight cameras arranged to Daniel's liking. Six of them were outside the hut, the other two were inside. Jack was beginning to feel like a light show, and he'd begun to devoutly hope that they'd be done before dark today. This much light was bound to attract attention if there was any to attract. His temper wasn't helped any by the fact that dawn local time was a good two hours before dawn back home.

Daniel and Carter had spent about two hours during the wee hours talking incomprehensibly. Jack had been surprised that Fraiser let the archeologist get up that early, but he supposed that she might have figured it was better to let him get it out of his system. If he wasn't sleeping anyway, why not let him work? Jack had listened to them babbling on, but he hadn't really caught much of what they were saying, except that it involved naquadah, energy transfers and that sort of thing.

Then he'd had to get busy with cameras and listening to a man who was seven miles and several thousand light years away direct him in their placement.

Now he sat, watching the shapes on the exterior of the hut's surface shift shape. Major Schofield had suggested a carefully placed bomb in the early hours of the morning, but Carter had shaken her head. "There's a lot of naquadah in those walls. Unless we want to be picking up pieces of them over a ten mile radius, we don't want to use explosives."

A stray word in the stream of information flowing back and forth between Daniel and Carter caught his attention. " . . . elevator, so we don't want –"

"Did I hear the word 'elevator'?" he asked.

"Jack, I thought you'd left us," Daniel said. "Yes, I think this might be an elevator to an underground base of some kind."

"Then isn't touching all this stuff kind of dangerous?" Jack asked more quietly, as he heard Dempsey ask if he'd heard right.

"I only just figured the elevator part out, Jack," Daniel said. "And how was I supposed to figure out what it was? The symbols seemed to be pretty random. It was only by causing them to change that I could identify their purpose."

"Did you say elevator?" Dempsey demanded from inside the hut. When Jack didn't immediately respond, he raised his voice. "Hello, man trapped in alien elevator here! Hello?"

There was a strange snorting sound over the radio, and Daniel excused himself. Fortunately, they weren't on broadcast link. Given some of the few things they'd said earlier that he had understood, Jack had thought that was wise. Now he thought it even more. Dempsey really didn't need to hear Daniel laughing at his perfectly understandable distress.

A moment later, Daniel came back to the radio, sounding completely composed. He opened his channel to broadcast. "Colonel Demspey, I believe it's possible that the structure you found is an elevator leading to an underground facility of some kind. I'm not absolutely sure, but I'm . . . just a moment." There was a pause. "No, I'm sure. That panel next to your left hand, sir, looks to be a console to help a visitor identify which level he wants to travel to."

There was a scuffling inside the hut as Dempsey moved away from that panel. "How do we keep it from going down?" asked Chen.

"I'm not sure it can," Carter said. "It appears to be jammed solid. Did you notice any movement just after the door shut? Maybe a slight downwards jerk?"

"I was too busy focusing on whether or not we were going to be able to get Craig loose before she bled to death," Dempsey said.

"Right," Daniel said. "So, now I'm trying to work out which of those symbols you need to use to activate the emergency stop and the manual door override."

"Why do the symbols on the outside change when you touch the symbols inside?" Jack asked.

"Only some of the symbols are interactive from the interior to the exterior," Daniel replied. "I believe they are a means of communication. This appears to have been some kind of gathering place, a Goa'uld Monte Carlo of sorts. Some of the stuff on the inside looks like advertisements or announcements. Clearly it was abandoned a long time back."

Silence fell in the clearing while Daniel looked and had people shift the views on his cameras. Finally, the linguist said, "Colonel Dempsey, please walk over to face the door."

Jack stepped forward and looked inside to see that the colonel was following Daniel's instructions. "Yes?" he said when he was in position.

"On the left there are three columns of figures. In the far right column, fourth down, there's one that looks like a house with a porpoise on top."

Dempsey studied them, then ran his hand down to hover over one of the symbols. "This one?"

"Exactly," Daniel said. "Press it." Dempsey licked his lips, took a deep breath, and did as he'd been told. There was a sudden silence as a deep, almost subliminal hum died away. Jack hadn't even been aware of the noise till its absence made it noticeable. "Good. Sam, did that cut off the power signatures we've been picking up?"

"It did," she said. "Now there's nothing."

"Okay." Daniel paused. "Colonel, there's a symbol high in the upper left corner of that wall, sort of like a donut with rippled edges. Yes, that one. Press it."

He did, and with a shuddering clank, the door released. It didn't actually open, and Jack held the others back until Daniel gave the go ahead to try and pry it open. Within moments Dempsey and Tyler were out in the sunlight.

"Chen?" Jack called through the side wall.

"Just a minute. There's something here that I couldn't –"

"Captain, get out here right now!" commanded Colonel Dempsey.

With commendable alacrity, Chen got out of the little structure. Jack couldn't help suspecting that Daniel would have been slower to move. Then he immediately felt guilty for the thought.

"Did it work? Are they out?"

"Yes, Daniel, they're out," Carter said. "They're fine."

"Yes, Dr. Jackson, thank you," Colonel Dempsey said fervently.

"Just doing my . . . my job," Daniel said, his voice faltering towards the end. Carter caught Jack's eye, and she looked concerned. Dempsey glanced over at him as well, but before Jack could think what to say, the general spoke.

"I think Dr. Jackson needs his rest. I want all of you back as soon as you can manage it. We may have to send a larger engineering team to get a look at this place, but later. I want you all home pronto."

"Yes sir," Jack said. As the others started taking things down, Jack switched over to private mode and walked a bit away from them. "Is everything okay, sir?"

"Dr. Jackson's a little tired," the general said. "I'll . . . I'd better go with them. I'll give you more details when you get back. It's nothing to worry about, and we should get the gate closed."

"Yes sir," Jack repeated, then fell to tearing the camp down with a will.

When the camp was packed up and the three teams were all heading back to the gate, Jack found himself the focus of attention from both Dempsey and Travis, the commanders of the other two teams. They fell into step beside him after their teams had deployed themselves, and he waited for them to speak. He had a good idea of what they wanted to know.

Travis deferred to Dempsey as the senior officer. "Is Dr. Jackson all right, sir? I mean, I know he was injured, but that was weeks ago. Is he still so badly off that . . . I mean . . . is he going to be okay?"

Jack grimaced. "He's going to be fine," he said. "But there are complications that I'm not at liberty to explain."

"But he is going to be okay?" Travis asked.

Sighing, Jack shifted his sling to a more comfortable position. "We sure hope so," he muttered.

"Hope so, sir?" Travis repeated. "Sir?"

"Oh hell," Jack said. "Look, there are issues I can't go into."

"I understand that, sir," Dempsey said uncomfortably, "but . . . well, there are some pretty scary rumors making the rounds. People are getting alarmed."

"Rumors?" Jack asked, pursing his lips. "What kind of rumors?"

"Varied," Travis said when it became clear Dempsey wasn't going to say anything.

"Name a few."

They each tried to wait the other out, but finally Dempsey tired of the game and said, "I've had a couple of guys come up and ask me if Daniel's got amnesia."

Jack nodded. That didn't surprise him in the slightest.

"I heard a couple of guys theorizing that he was a Goa'uld, or some other kind of alien that can possess a human," Travis said. "I told them there wasn't the slightest chance in hell, but that's some of the talk that's going around."

"I can assure you that he's not a Goa'uld."

"I'm sure, sir, but the idea that people have got is that he's an imposter."

"He's not that," Jack replied.

"Neither of us is saying that he is," Dempsey said, glancing at Travis, who nodded. "After what he just did, I don't see how he could be, but it's got people unsettled."

"I'll bring it to the general's attention," Jack said.

"Someone even suggested he might be malingering," Travis said. "That he'd lost his nerve."

"Malingering!" Jack exclaimed angrily.

"I told them they were wrong, but –"

"Well, that's one notion I can dispel right off the bat," he said. "He was beaten so severely that his kidneys went into failure and they had him on dialysis for awhile. He has a broken foot, broken ribs on one side, barely healed cracked ribs on the other side and his right arm is broken in two places." Both of them stared at him silently. "And even with all that, he tried to get us to let him come on this mission. We had to practically tie him in his wheelchair to keep him on base."

"O'Neill," Dempsey said, glancing around at the soldiers who were moving through the wilderness on either side of them. "You can stop spitting fire. We're on your side, but come on, man. You've got to see that we need details. The only thing to stop rumors is facts, and those are sorely lacking right now."

"I can't give you details."

"What we know for fact is this," Travis said. "Dr. Jackson was attacked and severely beaten inside the SGC, and you were arrested for it."

Jack grimaced. "It wasn't me," he said.

"Obviously, or Hammond would have thrown the book at you so hard you'd never get up again," Dempsey said. "You were cleared and released, but nothing else has been done. No further arrests, no investigation, no search. Nothing."

"We know who did it," Jack said, shrugging.

"And he is?"

"Not there anymore."

"Colonel!" Travis exclaimed. "That's part of the problem, I think. The guys who think he's malingering think you and the general are covering it up for some reason, and that's why there's been no search for the culprit."

"Damn it!" Jack growled. "I really can't tell you, but I'll talk to the general about it."

"Can you at least tell us how this intruder got onto the base and off again without being caught?" Dempsey asked. "That's the thing that worries me most. We've got a hole in our security, and no one knows what it is."

"We know what it is," Jack said. "And it's being well guarded now."

"I don't like it," Dempsey said. "It's like there's a draft chilling my ankles and I can't figure out which door is open."

Jack shook his head. "I'm not happy about it either, but –" He shrugged.

"Sir, there is something you should probably know. Again, I told them they were full of crap and reported it up through channels to the general, but one of the rumors . . . sir, a couple of guys I heard talking think you did it, but that Hammond's covering up for you." Jack stopped dead in his tracks as the blood pounded in his ears. "And see, when you look murderous like that, it just helps the rumors." Jack knit his brows and took his cap off to run a hand through his hair. "Better," Travis said. "Now you just look baffled."

"I am. How could anybody think that?"

Travis shrugged. "I made my report just yesterday. They just couldn't figure out why Dr. Jackson would be covering for you. I mean, there were a couple of crack-brained suggestions, but nothing that made any sense."

"Like my Daniel would ever cover for me on something like that!" Jack said incredulously. "He'd head straight to Fraiser to demand I get a check up."

Both of them stared at him. Finally Dempsey found his voice. " _Your_ Daniel, sir?" he asked.

Jack's jaw dropped. That had been a serious slip that allowed for dangerous interpretations. He shook his head. "Our Daniel," he said. "It's not . . ." They were both looking even more alarmed, so he threw his head back and scowled. "Our Daniel, as in the one from our reality. As opposed to one from a different reality." He waited for the comprehension to dawn in their eyes. Then he started walking again, shaking his head.

They caught up with him. "You mean that transdim –"

Jack stopped and turned to face Dempsey before he could finish the question. "Don't say that out loud! Not where someone might hear you."

"Right," Dempsey said. "Sorry sir."

They resumed walking, and after a few moments, Travis said, "So, it was you, wasn't it, sir? Not you, I mean, but the you from that other reality."

"No, Travis," Dempsey said urgently. "I think it's more complicated than that. The Daniel back on base isn't our Daniel, is he?"

"Got it in one, Dempsey," Jack said. "And Travis. He brought this one, already beaten to a pulp, dropped him off, then took ours."

"So, why does he need our Daniel? What happened to his?"

Jack shrugged. He'd already told them most of it. In for a penny and the beans were spilled and all that. "His Daniel did cover up him beating up on him. And eventually, he accidentally killed him."

"There were way too many pronouns in that sentence, sir," Travis said. "You're saying that the Jack who stole our Daniel killed his own Daniel?"

"On accident, yes," Jack said. "It's a very complicated situation. We're in communication with someone from that reality, and we're working to get our Daniel back."

"But at the moment, he's in the hands of someone who left the guy who just saved our butts in a storeroom with multiple serious injuries?" Dempsey asked.

"That's the gist of it," Jack said.

"Charming."

"That's my take, too," Jack replied. "I'm guessing that something really got to the Daniel back there and that's why he was suddenly gone like that. He's got twin babies waiting for him at home, and his Sha're is . . . well, she's not a Goa'uld."

"Crap!" Travis said.

"So what condition is our Daniel in?" Dempsey asked.

"As of last Thursday, not great, but surviving." Jack bit his lip and shrugged again. "My information is third hand at best, though. The man I'm in communication with can't even get onto the level of the base they're holding Daniel on, much less see him for himself."

"Damn." Dempsey looked like he was grinding his teeth. "What the hell are they doing it for?"

"Long, complicated story, comes down to the fact that Kinsey is president and gung ho to seek out new worlds and plant the US flag in their soil, and Hammond is a greedy sycophant."

"I assume you mean _their_ Hammond," Travis said. Jack just gave him a look, and the younger man flushed with embarrassment. "Yes sir," he replied.

"I'm going to have to ask you two to keep this under your hats until the general has decided what to make public knowledge on the base, so for the time being, please don't even talk about it with each other. If you have further questions, come to me. If you have people asking you questions . . . I'll get back to you on what you should tell them. If people suspect me, you probably shouldn't direct them to come to me with their questions."

"No," Dempsey said dryly. "Thank you for being frank with us, Jack."

"Somehow I don't think the general will thank me for being frank with you," he replied, reflecting that he was going to have an uncomfortable interview with Hammond later. They both looked moderately sympathetic, but Jack thought they were right. The time for secrecy was past. If they'd managed to get this Daniel home and their Daniel back within three weeks, they might have been able to keep it a secret, but it was the first day of the fourth week. That was simply too long to keep a secret like this . . . at least when it involved one of the most talked-to people in the SGC.

They returned their attention to their teams and the walk back to the gate. Jack endeavored not to get maudlin, but the fact that one of these teams was a person shy didn't help his mood any. She even had a broken arm.

He put those kinds of thoughts out of his head and returned to his job.

* * *

**Reality A001**

"Fuck!" Samantha blinked and rolled over as the low-voiced exclamation woke her. "Get up!" Jack growled, shaking her shoulder. "Get up!" The situation sank in slowly to her sleep-fogged brain. She and the colonel had . . . she was naked. "Get up!" he called again as he rushed around the room. She sat up and a pair of pants hit her in the face.

"Up?" she asked stupidly.

"Briefing. Late. Get up!"

She looked at the clock. "Shit! You take the first shower, sir," she said

"Sir?" he repeated incredulously. "Sir?! We don't have time for niceties, Carter, we'll shower together."

They scrambled around, getting themselves together, slooshing off the remnants of their . . . uh . . . activities of the night before. There was no particular physical awareness of each other during the shower, they were too rushed.

She didn't expect that he'd have any clean clothes to put on, but he wrapped a towel around his waist and made a quick trip out to his truck for a little duffel with all the necessities. He'd used her razor with one of her spare blades to shave off his stubble in the shower, and he smelled oddly like women's shaving cream when she got close to him, but they were clean and dressed in under half an hour.

The drive to the base was exhilarating. Ordinarily, the colonel drove sensibly. Not too slow, but never quite fast enough for Samantha's tastes. On this occasion, given their tardiness and the possible consequences thereof, he drove like a bat out of hell.

They just had time to get to their respective locker rooms and change before the briefing. The colonel's hair was dry, but hers was still just the tiniest bit damp as they slid into their chairs to knowing looks from Hammond and Kowalski.

The briefing was short and to the point, and once they had their mission plans complete, Hammond informed her that he'd arranged another outing for Daniel just after lunch, with shelter nearby to avoid problems with weather. It also, as she'd expected, dealt with the issue of not being able to monitor what they did.

"Thank you, sir," she said. "I think that will make Daniel happy. He was disappointed to have to go in early yesterday." Kowalski left, clearly not interested in the conversation. Jack stayed, not speaking, as if he hoped to go unnoticed.

"I can understand that," Hammond said. "Did he say anything of importance yesterday? I understand you talked for a fairly long time."

"We did," Samantha said. "I don't know if you'd say important . . . we mostly talked about his options, what kinds of things he could do to improve his situation, the things he could do to worsen it." She shrugged. "He did ask for one thing, though."

"Did he? What?"

"Music. A cd player and some music to listen to. He'd prefer it to be unlimited, because he says he can work while he listens. I know where our Daniel's music collection is." She glanced uneasily at O'Neill, both for Hammond's benefit and to see how the colonel was taking her phrasing. Of course, a determined mind could take it as an affectionate reference to their friend . . . Neither man reacted to those words so she went on. "I could take those in to him. I'd imagine that should work for him."

"Very well. Just make sure he knows that I'll take it away again if he slacks off."

"Of course, sir," she said.

"Sir," Jack started and she looked at him apprehensively. "It's not a cut and dried business, this translation stuff. There will be times when he'll get lots done, and others when it will take longer." Hammond raised an eyebrow, and as the colonel started to speak again, she put a hand on his arm. It was all well and good to push for reasonable behavior, but angering Hammond would not have any kind of beneficial effect.

Jack subsided, and the general turned his eyes to her, giving her an appraising look that made her want to shower all over again. He cleared his throat. "I take your meaning, colonel, and I will endeavor to keep that in mind. Dismissed."

Samantha and Jack parted outside the briefing room with nothing more than a pat on the shoulder from him to her. She went to the elevator and pressed the button, waiting for it to come and totting up the complications in her life right now. She was being drugged, in fact she was heading to get her next shot right now. She had thrown her lot in with a group of people who would be called traitors, mutineers and rebels if they were caught, and it was all of her own doing. She had pledged her help to a man who came from another reality from which she could gain nothing more than the satisfaction of knowing she'd done the right thing. She'd managed to give the opposition the impression that she was on their side, which required her to back up that impression with some level of word and deed. And now she was having a sexual relationship with a man who was not only her commanding officer but was also completely bananas, drifting in and out of lucidity, but never wholly sane.

And then there was her day job.

After allowing Warner to shoot her full of stuff designed to make her a complacent twit, she went to her lab and picked up a couple of files. She dropped them off with Siler together with his little device for jamming communication frequencies. The storm yesterday had undoubtedly covered up her use of it during her chat with Daniel. As she'd expected, that would clearly be her only chance to have an open conversation with the man, and she was glad she'd taken the opportunity.

Siler took the files matter-of-factly, and she went on to Daniel's room to check on him and let him know that they would be going out again later in the day. There was a tray on his desk that was full of things like she'd requested for him yesterday, foods that wouldn't get unpleasant if not eaten right away. His color was better, and he was working. He smiled when he saw her, but an underlying tension filled the room. He was all too aware that they would be going offworld soon, and she didn't have a solution to his stress.

"Good morning, Samantha," he said. "You're looking moderately harried."

"Well, that's about how I feel, so that works," she said. "I thought I'd better let you know that at one o'clock I'll be coming back to take you outside again, this time to where there's some shelter from rain squalls."

"That's great," he said, smiling. She could tell, though, that he'd gathered the implications of a pre-arranged location from the darkness in the back of his eyes. No more private chats. "Even cloudy skies beat constant ceiling," he added.

She smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Well, I've got to –"

The door opened and an airman walked in. One of them was carrying a small portable stereo. "Dr. Jackson, where would you like us to put this?"

Daniel stared at the man for a moment, then pointed to the corner of his desk. The airman positioned it within easy reach, plugged it in and then turned to Samantha. "I was told to report to you to get the music."

"I'll go get it," she said. Daniel seemed stunned by the sudden appearance of the cd player in the room. She squeezed his shoulder and took the airman to their own Daniel's old office. He looked uneasy in the room that had almost become a shrine to a dead man. Apart from removing all the books to the Daniel prison they maintained for their unwilling guests, Hammond hadn't intruded here. At this point, she figured he planned on making it the office of whichever Daniel lasted for any significant amount of time.

When she didn't know where to find the colonel, she often came here to find him sitting at the desk, looking blank and utterly unaware of his surroundings. She went to the cabinet against the wall and pulled out a wooden cd rack. The airman took it, then started to turn. "Just a minute," she said, sliding out a second rack. The young man took that rack and waited while she pulled out a third. "I can get these," she said. He looked as if he thought he should be carrying everything, but sensibly didn't object.

They went back to Daniel's cell . . . and she hated thinking of it that way, but it was the only honest term for the space. He looked up with surprise when they brought in the racks, and watched in apparent bemusement as they set them up for him. "There, music," she said. "I hope you enjoy it."

"I will," he said. Then, leaning closer to look at them, he asked, "Are these . . . did these . . ."

"Yes, they belonged to our Daniel," she answered, anticipating the rest of the question he couldn't seem to force out. He looked up with wide eyes "I was really hoping that you two had at least similar tastes."

He nodded, eyes distant as his finger strayed across the backs of the cases. "I . . . I . . . thank you, Samantha. This may just save my sanity."

"Hammond asked me to make it clear that it's a privilege, not a right," she said for Hammond's benefit.

Daniel looked up at her, humor sparking in his eyes. "I'm not likely to forget it. Thank you again. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she said, figuring that telling him it was no big deal would come across poorly. It was a big deal for him, clearly. "I'll see you after lunch."

He nodded and pulled out a cd. The airman had already left, so she shut the door behind her to the sound of tribal drum music. They day passed quickly, and Daniel's second trip outside was over too fast for both of them. She rarely spent time out of doors on her own planet anymore. She didn't have the time. The weather stayed clear, for a wonder, and she wished it could have happened that way yesterday. A little more time of open conversation would have done neither of them any harm.

She took him back to his room and left him with his books and his papers. He seemed very somber when she left. Not really surprising under the circumstances. Work kept her busy until past eight, when the colonel showed up in her lab. "Samantha, I think it's time for you to go home."

"Sir?" she said. "I've got a couple more analyses to run."

"Run them tomorrow," he said walking across and putting his hands on her shoulders. A delicious tingle reminded her of the previous evening. "Right now we're going home."

She tilted and looked up at him. Old habits were strong, and she wasn't going to be a substitute whipping boy. "I'm not going to put up with too much of the domineering thing, Jack. I make my own decisions."

His hands froze on her shoulders and she waited to see what his response was going to be. He walked around to the other side of the table and stood facing her. He was blinking earnestly and he seemed to be having trouble speaking. She kept working, finishing up the last bit of the analysis she'd been working on when he came in, figuring that he'd speak in his own good time.

"Samantha, I – I'd like to take you home now," he said. "Actually, I'd like to take you to dinner and then take you home."

She hit enter on the last line of the document, closed it and looked up, smiling. "Sounds good," she said. His eyes opened wide. "Just let me get things closed down."

"Sure," he said. "I'll just go get cleaned up. Meet you by the locker room?"

She nodded and he went out. This was the oddest situation. The feelings he stirred up in her were not what she'd ever have expected to feel for a lover. Compassion and concern combined with strong exasperation. Just after Daniel's death, during the first few abductions, she had pulled away from him in shock and horror that he could do what he was doing. Now she wondered if she'd made a mistake. If she'd tried to support him, would he have responded?

The part of her mind that continued to analyze even her most sentimental thoughts reminded her that if she had influenced the colonel, General Hammond would have taken steps to neutralize that influence. He had very specific expectations, and if she'd caused O'Neill to fail to meet them, he would have acted swiftly to counteract that.

Closing up her lab, she reflected that their cover had only been strengthened by their near lateness for the briefing. But she, as the sane member of this little pairing had to remain very conscious of all the possible repercussions it could have. Relationships such as this were frowned upon, but so long as they didn't interfere with either participant's work performance they were tolerated. She also had to consider what this relationship meant in larger terms. Not as colonel and lieutenant, but as man and woman, what did this mean?

She was hardly a blushing virgin, but this was a pretty serious step. Was it two people reaching for comfort from someone they each knew they could trust, or was it something more? She shook her head. It was probably too early even to wonder about that. It was comfort and support and intimacy with another human being at a time when she desperately needed them. Any other questions would have to wait.

He was waiting when she came out of the locker room. They went out to a little Italian place and held hands on the table. It was beginning to feel repetitive, but she couldn't help thinking yet again that her life had taken a very surreal turn. They talked about their childhoods and schooling, very much surface stuff, but things they'd never really talked about before. It wasn't a night for plotting and secret communications. After they ate a scrumptious tiramisu, he paid the check and walked with her out to the parking lot, hand in hand.

When they reached the truck, he walked her around to her door and stopped, holding both her hands. "Your place or mine, Samantha?"

"If it's your place, we'll need to stop by mine to get my things," she said.

He pursed his lips. "How about we swing by my place and I'll grab some stuff."

She nodded and he opened the truck door for her. "And tonight we set an alarm," she said ironically.

"Good thinking, lieutenant," he said, holding onto her hand for a moment and bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss on the palm. It was both intimate and erotic, and she felt herself flush. He shut the door and got in on his side. As he drove them to his house, she leaned back in the seat and watched the scenery go by.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Tuesday, April 27** _ **  
** **Reality L583**

By the time they got back to the SGC, Dr. Fraiser had sedated their guest. He'd evidently had a violently emotional reaction, no one was quite sure what to. But if Fraiser had sedated him, it must have been pretty awful.

Jack took a pad of paper and a couple of books with him and sat with him through the evening. He didn't know if it would help, but he didn't want this Daniel waking up alone. Settling himself down at the table, he started working on his report. He had confessed his indiscretion to the general, who had agreed that it had been the only thing he could have done under the circumstances. Leaving the information and Dempsey and Travis in the general's capable hands, he'd gotten checked out by Fraiser, taken a shower, and come here.

Teal'c needed some time off from Daniel duty, and Carter had announced upon her clearance to leave the infirmary that she had gained a few new angles on the mirror problem. Without waiting for dismissal, she had rushed off to her lab. Not that he would have refused her permission, but it was amusing when the very proper Captain Carter forgot herself.

He hated writing reports. It was very annoying, tedious work to have to write down all of what he had just done. He understood the need, he just wished there was a better way to get it done. Hours passed before Daniel so much as stirred. It was quarter to eleven when he rolled over and sat up.

"Jack?"

"It's me," he said, getting up and walking across to the chair beside the bed.

Daniel's face underwent the most astonishing series of expressions, pleasure, confusion, concern, realization, resignation and all the myriad states in between. Occasionally Jack wondered if it was possible to sprain one's face. If so, Daniel was in serious danger of it. Finally, the archeologist put his feelings into words. "I'm still not home," he said glumly.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"I dreamed . . ." Jack nodded and Daniel didn't go on. Jack was plenty familiar with those kinds of dreams. Sometimes you didn't want to wake up from them. "So, did everyone get back okay?" the other man asked eventually.

"Oh yeah," Jack said. "Dempsey and the rest of his team asked me to convey their thanks, and they know who they're thanking due to a flub on my part."

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked.

"I told them you were a Daniel from an alternate reality because otherwise they were . . . well, I said something about 'my Daniel' and –"

"That has multiple interpretations," Daniel said with a smothered grin. "So you had to tell them the truth?"

"Yeah. It was time anyway. The secret's wearing a bit thin, and some rumors are starting that we need to nip in the bud now."

"Rumors?"

"Daniel's got amnesia, Daniel's lost his nerve and we're trying to cover it up, Colonel O'Neill lost his cool and beat the crap out of Daniel and everyone's just covering it up. They run the gamut."

Daniel blinked. "That sounds like it. Well, you'll have to let me know what the story you settle on is."

"Um . . . the truth, probably," Jack said. Daniel's eyes widened and he shrugged. "So, you hungry at all? I've got a thermos of soup over here."

There was silence while Daniel considered this. "I think I could handle some soup," he said and Jack poured some out into the mug that topped the thermos. Daniel sipped meditatively, and Jack tried not to fidget. "You know," Daniel said after a few moments, "you might want to get up and pace or something before you explode."

Jack let out a snort, then studied the other man closely. "You're putting on a very good front."

"Thank you," Daniel replied. "I do my best. It's nice to have that noticed."

"Daniel!" he exclaimed in irritation.

The other man shrugged. "What? It's true."

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's okay to let go a little," he said.

"Letting go a little won't work," Daniel replied with a grim smile. "I'm afraid if I relax even a little, I'll turn into a pile of hysterical goo."

Jack sighed. "I can understand that. But you know, it's all right to turn into hysterical goo." Daniel looked at him dubiously. "We'd pat you back into shape when you were done."

"That is a disgusting image!" Daniel said.

"But a heartfelt and sincere one," Jack replied. "And it was yours, after all." Daniel shuddered slightly, but Jack could tell he wasn't unduly distressed. "Seriously, though, no one could possible expect you to be calm and peachy keen after what's happened to you."

"Maybe no one else," Daniel muttered.

"Don't be . . ." Jack bit back the word 'ridiculous' as needlessly provocative and possibly insulting. Had it been his own Daniel, he probably wouldn't have scrupled, but this man was having a very bad time. "You can let go here and not be judged. That's all I'm saying." Daniel just shrugged. It probably wasn't the moment for him to let loose a storm of emotion anyway, Jack thought. He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "So, the soup waking up your appetite at all?"

Daniel's eyes narrowed thoughtfully for a moment, then he said, "Not really. It seems to be hitting the spot exactly."

"Good. Fraiser said you'd probably wake up but need to sleep again pretty soon after."

"Not yet," Daniel said. "I've got some files over there that I could –"

"Actually, she gave us pretty specific orders as to that," Jack said apologetically. "Pretty blistering words, too. You're not to work on anything until she personally okays it, so I've got a couple of novels and some magazines, but all files and other work paraphernalia have been removed."

"Damn it!" Daniel snarled. "It was the only thing . . . I need to . . . it holds me together."

"Well, unfortunately, she thinks it also tore you apart," Jack said. "I wasn't here, obviously, but she said she thought we were working you too hard."

Daniel shook his head. "It wasn't overwork, it was . . ." He shrugged expressively, looking stymied. "I don't know how to explain it. I was doing my job, but I'm not. I'm here, and my job is in my reality. I'm doing another man's job, an equally important job, but not my job . . . and somewhere, there's a guy who may or may not be doing my job, and if he isn't then who's taking care of what needs to be done, and if he is, how badly is he possibly screwing up? There are things about my reality that he doesn't know just as there are things about your reality that I don't know . . . I don't know how soon I'll be back, and I don't know what's happening with my wife and children or who's taking care of them. Jack is, I'm sure, but it's –" Jack caught the visiting Daniel's arm and he broke off. Tears had begun to stream down his face, and his volume had risen as he spoke, his voice growing so tense that Jack wondered how he could bear to talk. Vocal chords that tight must be painful. "I want to go home!" Daniel exclaimed. "But how can you let me go? If I leave, you people will have no one."

"You'll go home when we can manage to make it happen, even if we don't have our Daniel," Jack said firmly. "That's not in question."

"What if that elevator thing had happened when you didn't have a Daniel to translate those words?"

"Teal'c had some ideas," Jack said, but the look Daniel shot him told him that he knew Jack was exaggerating.

"At best it would have taken Teal'c a couple of days, probably closer to a week to get them out of there," Daniel said. "Who knows what could have been lurking that might have been emboldened by that long a stay?"

"Don't borrow trouble," Jack said. "We've got enough of our own without going looking for problems we don't have."

"True," Daniel said, sighing. "You're a good man, Jack. Much like my own." He leaned back, eyes fixed on some distant point that was most definitely not in this room. "I just wish I understood . . ."

Jack waited, but he didn't go on. "You wish you understood what?"

"Him." Daniel shook his head. "What you said about his not liking me to risk myself and all of what I have makes sense to a point, but . . . I never know what to expect."

"Well, if he's anything like me, then you're very different men," Jack said. "I can't exactly analyze him from here, but I can say that you're a lot like my Daniel, and our friendship has its rocky moments, believe me."

"It's hard to tell watching you now," Daniel commented.

"I have a feeling that it's the same for your Jack. He's not remembering . . . except occasionally . . . how much trouble you give him. He's remembering how much he relies on you as his right hand. He's probably over there obsessing on two things. Taking care of Sha're and the kids and finding you."

Daniel gave him a half amused, half appalled look. "Except occasionally? Am I to take it that you have been remembering how much trouble your Daniel gives you?"

Jack shrugged. "Sometimes. Look, if your Jack is anything like me, and from what you've said, he is, he thinks of you like an exasperating little brother that he's supposed to watch after and take care of, but who isn't cooperating."

Daniel's eyebrows rose. "So being a colonel is like being a babysitter?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "It sure can be. There are moments."

The other man leaned closer, giving him a mischievous look. "And there are moments when the babysitter is more of an instigator of bad behavior than otherwise," he said.

"As is only right and proper for an older brother," Jack said sanctimoniously, a bit of humor that was rewarded by a smile. The smile was followed shortly by a yawn. "And as the surrogate for your older brother Jack, I say it's time for you to go back to sleep."

"I say it's time for me to hit the bathroom," Daniel said. With all his injuries, that was more of a production than either of them found pleasant, but they got through it with a minimum of embarrassment and put him back to bed.

"Sleep well, Daniel," Jack said, going back over towards the table where his fledgling report was waiting.

"Could I have a book?" Daniel asked. "I'm not quite ready to sleep."

Jack grabbed the pile of novels and let Daniel pick one, putting the rest of the bedside table. Then he settled down to his report. When he got tired, eventually, he dossed out on the couch, figuring that any movement Daniel made would wake him.

* * *

**Wednesday, April 28  
Reality A001**

When the alarm went off, Samantha snuggled closer into the warm body that was in bed with her, feeling safe and drowsy. A moment later, the alarm stopped making noise, and the warm body snuggled back. "You set it early," he said.

"I did," she agreed. "I thought it might be nice to have a couple of minutes before we had to start rushing around."

His only answer was a wordless sigh of contentment. After a few moments, he said, "This is quite a surprise. I never expected to . . . I mean . . ."

She turned her head. "Are you saying you've been attracted to me before this?"

"Carter, you're a beautiful woman, and on top of that you're brilliant and competent, and hell on wheels in a fight. What's not to be attracted to?"

She lay silent, cradled in his arms for a moment. "I don't know what to say to that. I don't think of myself that way."

He rolled over and pulled her close. "You're modest, too," he added, smiling slyly, "and that just helps. But hasn't anyone ever told you that competence is amazingly sexy?"

She smiled at him. "I'd noticed it for myself, actually," she said, tracing a muscle in his arm.

The pleasure went out of his face and he rolled away, turning his back to her and sitting up. "Then why you'd want to be with me is a mystery," he said.

"Jack?" she said uncertainly. Snagging her robe from the end of the bed, she pulled it on and shifted to sit next to him. "Jack, you're not incompetent, you're ill." And this was a dangerous conversation to be having in a place that might be monitored.

"I wasn't ill when everything started," Jack said. "I wasn't ill when I killed Danny."

She couldn't mention the drugs, not if there might be people listening. And wasn't that a charming thought? Did they turn their heads away during the sex, or did they watch with avid curiosity? She shivered slightly. "Sir, you made a mistake," she said.

"And you knew it then, and told me, more than once, and I didn't listen."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Jack, and the past is over and done with. We have to move on from where we are now."

He dropped his head into his hands and said, "I suppose you're right, but . . ."

"No buts," she said. "No ifs or maybes either. Right now we take one day at a time and just keep going."

He looked up, meeting her eyes. In his gaze was the awareness that he only seemed to have when they were alone together, the knowledge of all that he had done. But he smiled past that and took the support she was offering. "Okay, one day at a time."

"Good," she said. "So, do you want to shower first or second?"

"First," he replied with a mischievous glint. "I'm not that chivalrous."

"Age before beauty," she remarked, getting up. He swatted at her behind as she moved away. "I'll go fix some breakfast. Oatmeal?"

"Sure," he said, heading into the bathroom.

* * *

Wednesday. Daniel awoke with a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. Five days they would be gone. The only people he could expect to see for the next five days were airmen who didn't talk to him, or Hammond and Berman, whom he most definitely didn't want to see.

He got up and took a shower, then walked out into the main room. A bed. A desk. Eight bookcases. Three chairs. An audio/visual cart with a TV and a VCR and three tapes. A cheap cd player. A bar fridge filled with water and soda. A bowl of fruit and a neat stack of granola bars. His whole world for the next five days.

He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and sat down at the desk, taking up where he'd left off on the most recent translation job he'd been given. More and more, he'd become unwilling to work. He didn't know what they would do with the information he gave them, and he didn't have any way of affecting it either. But if he stopped translating, Hammond would kill him and that would be the end of things for him, and they'd go seek another Daniel. Somehow that didn't seem like a good option.

So he sat down and translated things that seemed harmless but which might not be and prayed that they would not be used against innocents. Against the Goa'uld, that was well and good, and one could mourn the hapless human host that died with them, but he hated being a tool in the hands of a man who thought that killing people and taking their stuff was the answer to defeating the Goa'uld, who killed people and took their stuff. The human race turning into a copy of the Goa'uld wasn't victory, it was substitution.

And if he got himself killed and Jack showed up the next day . . . Daniel smiled at the thought that came next . . . Jack would kill him. Ironic, that. He sighed. He just had to stick it out and hope that people like Samantha wound up in charge here in the long run.

The door opened behind him, and he turned to see Samantha coming into the room with a tray of fresh breakfast. Eggs, toast, bacon. She set it down in front of him and sat down. "Eat up."

He pulled the tray in front of him and did as she told him. "What about you? Have you already had breakfast?"

She nodded. "I got up early and ate. How are you this morning?"

He shrugged. She seemed so bright and cheery that he didn't want to spoil her mood. Besides, there wasn't a damned thing she could do about his unease at being left here without her comfort and support, and without Jack. Making her feel guilty for something she couldn't help would be unkind. "I'm fine," he said.

Her eyes took on a depth of sympathy that told him more loudly that words that she knew he was full of shit. "I put together a stack of movies for them to bring you," she said. "As the days go by. We'll be back before you know it."

Daniel doubted that sincerely, but saw no point in saying so. She could probably guess. "Well, be safe, Samantha, and make sure the colonel doesn't take any unwarranted risks."

"I'll do my best," she said, smiling. "We leave at noon, so I've got to go get ready."

He nodded. "Go, get ready. Don't want you to rush and skip any steps."

She laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I won't. I'll see you Sunday evening."

"I'll see if I can arrange a nice dinner for you," he said. She squeezed his shoulder and left. He turned back to his work. He didn't expect to see anyone else for awhile, not till lunch at least, but the door opened again about ten minutes later to admit Jack.

"Danny, you okay?" he said as Daniel turned.

There was a flutter of unease in his gut as there always was when this Jack called him 'Danny.' He smiled, though. "I'm good, Jack. Just be careful. Come back in one piece."

"I'll do my best Danny, I promise. I brought you some cookies to tide you over till we get back." He held out a bag of chocolate walnut cookies which Daniel accepted with a smile. "You take care of yourself, too, Danny. See that there aren't any problems, okay?"

"Sure, Jack," Daniel said, hoping that Hammond would permit that.

"Well, I'll see you when I get back," he said.

"Samantha's already coming for dinner. I'll see if I can arrange something nice for us."

"You do that," Jack said. There was an awkward pause, then Jack walked over and said, "Get up, Danny." Daniel did, and Jack gave him a tight hug. He returned it. Jack pulled away, tousled his hair, and said, "See you, Danny." Then he left.

Daniel sat down again and stared at the papers. They were leaving at noon. It was eight-thirty. He doubted he'd see either of them again before they went. Somehow, the leave-taking made him feel rather as if they weren't expecting to come back, which he knew was ludicrous, but it still tightened his neck and shoulder muscles painfully. He buried himself in work, focusing on it to the point that when he looked up again, it was nearly three, there was a plate of sandwich crumbs by his elbow and an empty carafe of coffee on the floor by his feet.

He looked up at the clock, ticking away the seconds towards three o'clock, and his stomach did a flip-flop. They were gone. His only protectors in this place, the only people he felt he could trust, were gone.

He wasn't going to think about that. He didn't want to think about it. He worked steadily till dinner. After dinner, he watched a movie and played solitaire until his eyes crossed. He knew he had to sleep, but he somehow didn't want to fall asleep with Samantha and Jack gone. It was an illusion that their absence permitted Hammond to do anything more than when they were here, but he still felt safer with them on base. He'd sent them on a mission last time, or so Daniel believed, so that he could have no kibitzing when he had Warner put the bomb in Daniel's chest.

Finally, Daniel felt tired enough to actually sleep. He got dressed for bed and climbed in and a moment later the lights went out. It was only nine o'clock, so they were being responsive to his actions, which made an interesting change. He wondered how long it would last.

* * *

**_Thursday, April 29_  
Reality A001**

Daniel's first day without Jack or Samantha went swiftly and without unexpected events. Breakfast came in the morning, lunch came, and then dinner, all brought by unsmiling, unspeaking airmen. Daniel ate and worked and tried not to remember that it had been through food and drink that he'd been betrayed the last time. Surely there was nothing else that Hammond could want to do to him.

He worked about ten hours in deference to the fact that he was supposed to be getting back to a more normal schedule now that the week of rest was up. He couldn't tell if he felt any better than he had last Thursday, but it hardly mattered. Hammond wouldn't put up with much more rest time.

That night he read himself into oblivion, and again, the lights went off as soon as it became apparent he was in bed to stay.

* * *

**_Friday, April 30_  
Reality A001**

Dreams could by sly, unfair things that gave you what you wanted and then snatched it away upon waking. Daniel stared up at the unchanged ceiling of his prison and tried to cope with the aftermath of a dream that had put him back home with Jack, Sam and Teal'c, having dinner at O'Malley's, then going to Jack's house for a movie and beer. He'd woken up as he'd fallen asleep in the dream. Too drunk to go home, he was sleeping in Jack's guest bed.

Waking from that to the prison . . .

He got up and went into the bathroom. In the middle of his shower, he heard the outer door open and shuddered slightly under the hot water. That had happened a few times and been merely breakfast delivery, but he couldn't put out of his mind the memory of the times it had been Hammond he'd come out to.

He finished his shower quickly, not wanting to keep Hammond waiting if it was him, and walked out to the sight of an airman kneeling in front of his little fridge, clearly restocking it. He felt more than a little foolish but very relieved. He sat down at his desk where a breakfast tray had been placed and began to eat. His fruit had been refreshed as well, he noticed. He turned on the cd player and popped in some lively music to wake himself up.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and started his breakfast as he read through the translation he'd written the night before. He looked down at he coffee after he'd drunk some and said, "Did you change the blend?"

The airman looked up from the fridge. "Yes, sir, I believe we did."

"Hmmm . . ." Daniel took another sip and shrugged. It didn't taste that different, only a little more bitter, which was all to the good as far as he was concerned. His eggs weren't tasting very good this morning, so he pushed the tray aside and grabbed an apple from the bowl.

As he continued to drink the coffee, he tried to puzzle out what the difference was exactly. When his eyes started to lose focus and he began to feel detached from the room and the page in front of him, he realized abruptly what the change was. He stood up and threw the coffee cup across the room where it slammed into the wall next to the airman and broke, spraying coffee everywhere. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded. His vision was blurring, and he fell unsteady, even sitting in the chair. It had taken three cups of coffee to get him to this point last time. They must have upped the dosage for fear he'd stop drinking if he started feeling odd.

"Sir, you should sit down," the airman said, rising and coming towards him.

He backed away, stumbling over the chair. "What's he going to do to me?" he demanded. His words were slurring. He felt even more awkward with the cast. It threw off his balance because he didn't have that arm to use as ballast.

"Sir, it will be okay," the airman said. He'd moved much more quickly than Daniel had and was right up next to him. Daniel swung out with his right hand and caught him a clumsy blow on the shoulder. Since he'd been aiming for his jaw, he glared angrily. The airman caught him by the shoulders.

"Let go of me!" he growled, struggling to break free. He wrenched himself out of the young man's arms and hit the wall behind him. "Why is he doing this?" The airman pursed his lips unhappily and moved towards him. Daniel had nowhere to flee now. He stood his ground, glowering. Then his knees gave way beneath him and he slid down the wall.

His vision darkened, and he lost consciousness to the words of the airman. "Sir, don't worry. Everything will be . . ."


	25. Chapter 25

_**Friday, April 30** _ **  
Reality A001**

The vile taste in his mouth combined with the strange grogginess of his mind told Daniel what had happened immediately when he woke up. He remembered the drugged coffee, the words of the airman, and didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to know what had been done with him this time.

After several seconds, though, he couldn't stop himself. He opened his eyes and looked down at himself for signs of medical paraphernalia. There were none. He was wearing his fatigue pants and a black t-shirt, just as he had been when he'd been working. But the ceiling above him was different. He sat up sharply and looked around. The walls were concrete, but there was nothing else in this room that was familiar. Even those weren't really familiar, as they were painted a pale blue.

The bed was a double, with a simple wooden headboard and footboard. There were prints on the walls of impressionist art, and a framed papyrus above the door. A blessing on a house. Probably a fake, but it was very good.

Daniel shook his head. There was a wooden wardrobe in the opposite corner with doors on top and drawers below, and an attractive light fixture in the ceiling. A brass lamp with a cream colored shade sat on the bedside table with the book he'd last been reading sitting neatly under it. All the woodwork in the room was mahogany. The doors, too, were painted blue. One of them was to his right, the other was straight ahead from the foot of the bed. He stood up and looked around. The bed was covered with an old fashioned quilt, he didn't know the name of the pattern, in green, blue and cream.

Where was he? Where had they moved him? Why had they moved him? He pushed himself to the edge of the bed and stood up, wincing as the change in position made his headache wake up. Two doors . . . one of those doors must lead to the bathroom. He felt queasy from the aftereffects of the drugs anyway, and his nerves made it an urgent problem. He went first to the door on his right and it opened into a pleasant bathroom. Dark green and white tile covered the floor and went halfway up the walls. Above the tile, the concrete of the wall had been painted pale green. The fixtures were white and the sink, tub and toilet were all the same shade of green as the walls. The shower curtain was a simple white and green plaid with a clear liner.

These rooms had been set up for some time, he thought. This wasn't something that had been created since he'd been captured and Hammond had decided to keep him. This was created for whatever Daniel they found that worked out, a living space for a man who would never be permitted to leave the base, a man Hammond preferred to leave dead so he could control him utterly.

Was it even the same base? Daniel couldn't be certain. He thought so, but . . . He shuddered. Even if it was, the mountain had dozens of corridors. Jack and Samantha might not know where he'd been put, they might not be granted access.

His queasiness had reduced, at least for now, to manageable levels, though why he wasn't sure as his stress levels were soaring. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, and he reached automatically under his arm for the scar that was there, the healing wound. It was the same.

The tub was on the right and the toilet and sink were on the left with what was clearly a laundry chute between them. There was another door directly across from him. He walked slowly towards it, leaving the door to the bedroom open. There were no locks thus far, he noticed, as he opened the door onto an enormous office space. Three of the walls were lined with book cases and file cabinets, all of rich cherry with what he could see of the walls painted beige. There was a large desk, one that didn't look as if someone had died on its surface. He gulped. A large table with several chairs around it looked ready for briefings. The remaining wall had a long whiteboard that covered nearly its whole length, leaving just room for a door that was opposite the bathroom door and a phone right next to it. A phone. Daniel had no illusions, he was sure that it was only capable of reaching very specific numbers, but it was a mark of connection to the outside world that he hadn't previously had. He also noticed a light switch on the wall beneath the phone and glanced to his side. There was a switch here as well. He flipped it experimentally and the room was plunged into darkness. Hastily, he turned it back on again. The desk had a lamp on it, as did the table, and there were several portable lamps scattered around the room decoratively, which would allow him to direct extra light to whatever surface he needed it on. The small, cheap, portable cd player had been moved in here, as had the racks of CDs. And all of the books.

He looked around in astonishment, feeling very surreal. Why had Hammond done this? Was it an indication of favor, or something more sinister? Of course, with Hammond, an indication of favor was pretty damned sinister.

He walked further into the room, unwillingly drawn by the lure of books. He tried the door opposite; not surprisingly, it didn't open. He had a feeling this was the door to the rest of the base. Was it still the SGC, or had he been moved farther away? Was it even still Friday?

As he looked around, he noticed a third door. From its position on the same wall as the bathroom door, he suspected it led into the same space as the second door in the bedroom. Wondering what else there could possibly be, he went to that door and opened it.

The next room was clearly a living room with a few kitchen bits thrown in for good measure. There was a seating area that was gathered around a coffee table and facing a wardrobe that Daniel assumed must contain entertainment equipment. Behind the sofa, against the bedroom wall, there were several bookcases containing novels and games.

The kitchen area was to his immediate left. It wasn't large, maybe twelve square feet in the corner by the door. At the far end there was a refrigerator, larger than a bar fridge but smaller than full-size. Between the fridge and the wall there was a stretch of cream tile counter with a sink midway along it. Cupboards ranged above with both cupboards and drawers below. At the near end of the counter, there was a featureless panel of wood that was of the same grain as the cupboard above it and which stretched to the floor. He walked closer and looked at it from the side. There was a door that slid up from the bottom. He lifted the handle and saw what could only be a dumbwaiter. There was a small panel of lights above the door and a button.

He shut it, suppressing a shiver. This meant no one would ever have to come in here. Forcing himself not to shut down both emotionally and physically at that thought, he opened the cupboards above the counter. One of them contained dishes, another such staples as bread and crackers, the third had canned soup and other simple to make foods. Beneath the counter there was a coffee maker and a hot plate with a couple of pots. Under the sink there were cleaning supplies.

A table with four chairs completed the room. He consoled himself with the thought that everything was set up to accommodate more than one person. He was meant to have guests. But if they wanted to punish him, he was a prisoner in a tower. The way this space was organized, he wouldn't need to see another living soul for weeks, months, on end. He wondered what they'd do if he stopped eating or cleaning up after himself. They could probably gas the rooms, put him to sleep and take care of that for him while he slept.

"Do you like it?"

The voice came from behind him, and since he hadn't heard anyone come in, he jumped and turned around to stare at General Hammond in shocked surprise. Lt. Berman stood behind him, phlegmatic as always. Daniel recovered himself as quickly as he could. "Sir, I –" Surprise made him honest. "No, sir, I don't." His heart quickened as he realized just how angry that could make the general.

Hammond tilted his head, looking intrigued. "Is it the space you object to, or your imprisonment?"

Daniel swallowed and licked his lips. "The . . . uh . . . the latter," he said after a moment.

"Hm." Hammond nodded. "You haven't asked me to sit."

"Would you like to sit down?" Daniel asked, gesturing towards the sofa.

"Please." Hammond walked over and selected one of the chairs. Berman took up a position behind him, keeping an eye on Daniel.

"I don't know yet what I have to offer you to drink. Coffee would take awhile." He opened the fridge and saw an array of water bottles, some soda, and things like butter and eggs.

"This isn't really a social visit, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said. "Please, come sit down." Daniel walked over to the chair across from where Hammond had seated himself. He tried to put an appropriately attentive and bland expression on his face. Hammond smiled. "Good boy," he said. Daniel felt himself flush. "Now, these will be your quarters for the foreseeable future. If there are things you need that you don't have, particularly things you need to get your job done, let us know so we can provide you with them if possible."

"A computer would be useful, sir," Daniel said after a moment. "It would make preparing the translations much simpler, and there are things that require computer modeling, etc. I realize that you probably don't want to give me access to the internet, but if I had someone I could ask to surf for me, as well, there are things that I often research on the net when I'm working."

"I'll see what can be arranged. It's possible that the computer geniuses can come up with a means to permit you direct access that is monitored in some way."

"Right," Daniel said. "Other than that, I can't think of anything off the top of my head. I haven't really looked at everything yet."

"Of course. As you discover needs, simply let someone know. The phone is a direct line to the security team that keeps an eye on you. They will forward messages to me." Daniel nodded. "As you know, your injury makes it impossible to send you on offworld missions for the time being. I suggest you take this additional time to adjust yourself to the situation. You are here permanently. There is nothing you can do to change that."

Daniel closed his eyes and nodded again. "I realize that, sir," he said, knowing it was what Hammond wanted to hear.

"I'm sure you do intellectually, you're a smart man after all," Hammond said. "But I very much doubt that you've fully accepted it. Persuade yourself. Your situation will become much more pleasant when you've adjusted."

"I understand, sir," Daniel said woodenly.

"And you must realize, I can do whatever I want to with you, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. There's nothing Jack O'Neill can do to stop me. Somewhere within you, you must acknowledge that I am the one with the power and submit to that."

Daniel realized abruptly that part of the reason he'd been drugged for the move was to prove that power once again, to emphasize his complete vulnerability to Hammond's whims. Quite effective. He took a deep breath to will himself to remain in control. "Did Jack know you were moving me?"

The pleasure in the general's eyes deepened slightly. "No, neither Colonel O'Neill nor Lt. Carter was aware of the move."

"I see," Daniel said. So Hammond was proving his power to Jack and Samantha as well. What had made the man feel he needed to prove it so firmly to all of them? Was there some insecurity in the situation outside? And if there was, would it benefit him or work to his detriment? Or would it leave things exactly the same? The uncertainty was enough to make him jittery. "Sir, if you don't mind, is it still Friday?"

Hammond smiled. "It is. It's five o'clock on Friday afternoon. You've been unconscious approximately eight hours while we moved everything got it all situated. Dr. Warner gave you an examination to make sure that your incision is healing properly, and he seems pleased enough with your progress."

The image of the doctor examining him while he lay unconscious and utterly helpless gave Daniel the willies, but he concealed this reaction. "I'm glad to hear it," he said.

"You were also given an injection containing number of vitamins and minerals to ensure your continued good health." _And what else was in the shot?_ Daniel wondered desperately. Was he now being drugged as everyone else here was? "Dr. Warner gave you a thorough physical, in fact. He says you need to eat more consistently. You've lost weight since his last examination of you."

Daniel blinked. Oh yes, it was so easy to eat under these circumstances. "That could be because I'm not getting as much exercise," he suggested tentatively.

Hammond nodded curtly. "Yes, a situation that will soon be remedied. You will be taken to the gym to exercise daily starting tomorrow. Also starting tomorrow, your work schedule will be a minimum of eight hours a day, Monday through Saturday." Daniel nodded. "You will be expected to exercise every day, of course."

"Of course," Daniel said.

"And I will expect you do to what I ask when I ask it," Hammond went on. "If an emergency arises on a Sunday, you will work, and we will arrange a replacement day off later in the week."

"Certainly," Daniel said.

"And I don't want to hear any prating about moral or ethical concerns, either. You're not paid to have moral –"

"Am I being paid?" Daniel asked in surprise.

"Um . . . no," Hammond said, looking faintly embarrassed.

"Then I suppose I can have more and ethical concerns if I want to, then." The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back but it was too late.

Embarrassment turned to rage. Hammond shot out of his chair. "You live or die by my sufferance, boy," he snarled. "Remember that."

"I do, sir," Daniel said, sinking deeper into the chair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Hammond made an effort to regain control of his temper and sat down again. "No, you shouldn't have. But we will overlook your little error in judgment."

There was a pregnant pause, and Daniel stirred himself after a moment. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"Now, you have the rest of the day free to explore your new surroundings."

"Did my thing for covering my cast during showers get moved?" Daniel asked suddenly.

"I don't know," Hammond said. "Why don't you go look and then I'll make sure it gets here if it isn't."

Daniel nodded and got up. He went into the bathroom and looked, but he didn't find it. Going back out to the living room, he found Hammond standing near the door into the office. "No, sir, it's not there that I can see."

"I'll arrange for it to be delivered." Hammond looked around. "Remember this, Dr. Jackson, the more you cooperate, the more you adapt yourself to this situation, the better things will be for you."

"Thank you, sir," Daniel said. He followed the general out into the office and peered through the door to see what he could see when they left. All that was outside seemed to be more of the same endless hallways that honeycombed the mountain. The door shut silently, and Daniel bit his lip. That was something he'd miss. He'd liked being able to tell when someone had entered the room. The other door had been noisy enough to hear over the shower.

He stared at the door for a moment, then walked over to it to try it again. It was locked, of course, but it had been worth a try.

His stomach was beginning to gnaw at him. He hadn't eaten breakfast and whatever vitamin shots he might have been given hadn't filled his stomach. He went into the sitting room again and opened the refrigerator door to decide what he'd eat. At that moment there was a ding from the dumbwaiter, and a green light flashed on. Apprehensively, Daniel walked over and opened the sliding door. Within there were two items. A tray with ordinary commissary macaroni and cheese, a little dish of peas, another of applesauce, and a glass of milk sat partially on top of an envelope that looked like interoffice mail. He slid them both out onto the counter and closed the dumbwaiter. The green light turned off immediately and a red light came on. Daniel assumed that meant the elevator was in transit. He tucked the envelope behind his cast and picked up the tray one-handed, carrying it to the table at some risk to the milk.

He stared at the macaroni without pleasure, but started eating it anyway. He needed to keep eating so he didn't lose any more weight. He slipped the envelope out and looked at it. All it said on it was "Dr. Jackson L583." Shaking his head, he opened it and pulled out the contents. There was a calendar with food options on it, a brief note and a page that had three entrees listed with several choices of side dishes and desserts. He put them aside and looked at the note.

Dr. Jackson,

Please indicate your preferences on the menu calendar so that we can send you the food you'd like. Also, I have been given to understand that you want to give your CO and Lt. Carter a special meal when they return. Please indicate the entree and up to three side dishes on the other page, and the dessert. I know that Lt. Carter particularly likes the chocolate cheesecake.

Maj. Souza

Housekeeping

A little freaked by the implications of the note, Daniel nevertheless followed the instructions. It was a little hard to choose between stewed turkey and tuna casserole, but he persevered past such adversity. After all, he could always make a sandwich if he couldn't stomach the food from the commissary.

In fact, now that he thought of it, he picked up his tray and put it back on the counter, then got out some bread and ham and condiments. Much better. This was more comfortable than the other space, and had the benefit of not having been prison to several other versions of him, so far as he knew. This wasn't where his arm had been broken.

He pushed that memory aside with most of his sandwich and got up to see what entertainment options he had. In the wardrobe there was a TV set, a VCR and DVD player, a stereo system. There were a number of video tapes, a few DVDs and a single remote for all the equipment. He turned on the TV. Apparently, he was being favored with cable. He flipped from channel to channel, then stopped on a screen that said 'COMMERCIAL CENSORED'. He waited a few minutes and then the screen came to life with an episode of some sitcom or other. He flipped again to another channel, one where he thought he could expect to find network news. There, too, the screen was blank except for the words 'NEWS CENSORED'. More than a little creepy. He flipped around till he found something that looked like a history channel and sat back to listen to the archeologist talk about the ruins of some ancient temple in the Andes. As he listened, he again had a sense of dislocation with theories and discoveries being slanted in unexpected ways. It was a fascinating look at another culture that was so close yet just a hair off his own. He'd really enjoy it if he had the option of leaving whenever he wanted to. In fact, if he had that option and Jack trying to get him to leave with him, he'd probably be resisting.

The next program showed only the title, then the screen went blank and lettering popped up. 'PROGRAMMING CENSORED'. Daniel growled and shut the TV off.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall, which was one of the more incongruous features of the room, being a standard institutional wall clock, controlled by some outside source. It was now just past seven, and he had no one to talk to and nothing to do. He cleaned up the remnants of his meal and went into the bedroom to see just what he'd been provided in the way of clothing. There was a drawer of underwear and socks, a drawer of black t-shirts and a drawer of neatly folded fatigue pants. In the cupboard portion of the wardrobe resided sheets and other spare bedding, and several pairs of pajamas.

A cupboard in the bathroom proved to contain towels, and there were pounds of ground gourmet coffee stored in the freezer. He'd never heard of the company, and he wondered if it was the local Daniel's favorite. He was stocked up for a long stay, as uncomfortable as that made him.

He got the coffee maker set up on the counter. It was the kind that could be set on a timer, so he made a pot, then set it to have coffee ready for him at seven the next morning. Then he wandered the room, reflecting that the making of his own coffee made him feel marginally safer. It would be a hell of a risk to drug the water in the tap. They could give him too much or too little on accident, all depending on how much of the water he drank. That rendered the coffee he made himself considerably less likely to contain things he wouldn't want to consume.

He found a book on the shelves that was old enough to have possibly survived the cultural shift unscathed and settled down to read.


	26. Chapter 26

_**Saturday, May 1** _ **  
Reality L583**

A new month had started. Jack looked at the calendar page that read May 1, 1999 and wanted to throw it against the wall. Daniel needed to come home now. They needed an answer. Maybourne's visit on Thursday had been a simple message of nothing's changed. He'd stayed no longer that ten minutes, and all he'd had to say was that the SG-1 of that reality, minus Daniel, had been sent on an offworld mission.

Hardly useful information, except insofar as it meant that they were possibly risking their lives and leaving Daniel alone without support in their reality.

It had given their Carter more data for her calculations, though.

He reached for his keyboard. There were a few items flagged for his attention in his e-mail, and he ought to get to work. The phone rang, and he picked it up. "O'Neill."

"Sir, get down here," Carter said, sounding agitated. "Maybourne's here again. I'll call the general, you get Teal'c."

Jack caromed off the opposite wall in his haste to get out of his office door. Leaving staring staffers behind him as he ran through the halls, Jack made his way to the gym as quickly as possible given the slowness of the elevators. He stuck his head in and Teal'c looked up from his work. The young private who was bouting with him at that moment saw an opportunity and dove on him. Teal'c put the young man down – without hurting him, Jack was relieved to see – and stood up. "Class is dismissed," he said, as he walked out to join Jack.

They headed to Carter's office, arriving there at the same time as the general and they deferred to the higher ranking man, though Jack was champing at the bit. Maybourne was leaning against one of the lab counters and Carter was pacing. It looked as if they might have caught her mid-babble. She stood waiting as the general strode in. "Yes, Colonel Maybourne?"

"Sir, I thought you would want to know. The general has made a definite decision . . . he wants to keep your Daniel. And I forgot to mention on my last visit, this reality's Teal'c has now been captured by Earth and is being held at the SGC."

"I hardly see how that's relevant to getting our boy back," Hammond said.

"Well, sir, he's shown signs of possibly wanting to help," Maybourne replied and Jack raised his eyebrows.

"In what way?" Teal'c asked.

"Hammond apparently became suspicious of Daniel's translation of the folk tale you sent. He had Teal'c, controlling him by means of someone called Ryac." A measure of tension entered Teal'c's body that didn't go unnoticed by anyone present. Jack and Carter both edged closer to their largest teammate. "He asked Teal'c to verify the translation Dr. Jackson gave him."

"And he didn't tell them what it really was?" Carter asked.

"No, Lt. Carter tells me that he read through the entire letter and then told Hammond it was nothing more than a folk tale." He looked at Teal'c. "I thought maybe you could give me an insight into what his motivation might be."

"How could I?" Teal'c asked. "I am not him. He is not me. Our lives have run along different courses."

Jack shrugged. That was all the answer Maybourne was getting out of the big guy, he knew the signs, and there was something a little more interesting on his mind. "You already said Hammond was determined to keep our Daniel. What makes it so 'definite' now?"

"He's moved him and all his books out of the holding cell and into a suite he set up for the eventual permanent Daniel." He pulled out a folded piece of paper. "This map will show you where it is, and why it's a problem. Let me just say that there are at least three layers more of security than there were originally. I'm not sure what his reasoning is, maybe he doesn't want anyone invading the base to easily get their hands on a resource like Dr. Jackson, I don't know. Still, it makes things a bit more complicated for us."

"What size force would be required to get him out now?" Teal'c asked.

"I think you're missing my meaning," Maybourne said impatiently. "We're talking about a completely isolated block of the mountain, a space that can be locked down independently. I don't think he could be gotten out of there without a lot of help from the inside or months of effort. On top of that, if you did get through into the suite he's in, Hammond would know and he'd kill him instantly."

"Damn it!" The words exploded out of Jack. "I can't stand this!"

"We've also had a problem with getting more data from their log of alternate realities. They've blocked the hole we were using and we haven't found a solution yet."

"So you can't get the Daniel here home to his reality?"

"Not yet," Maybourne said. "How's he holding up?"

"Sir, now that he knows, maybe we should include him in this conversation?" Carter suggested. "He has a better understanding of the people over there than we do."

Maybourne looked faintly alarmed. Hammond tilted his head. "You don't seem altogether comfortable with that notion," he observed.

"I'm afraid I haven't met any of the Daniels," he said. "Not since ours died. Not face to face. And he's bound to regard me with understandable hostility."

Jack shrugged. "I'll go fetch him, sir. I think Carter's right. He should be involved." Hammond nodded, and before Maybourne could object further, Jack left. He headed up to the VIP room where Daniel was staying and went inside. Daniel was reading. He'd been given a very light work schedule, and Fraiser was observing his state of mind and body. At the moment, there was a young airman in attendance on him. The young man lounged in a chair, reading his own book. When he saw O'Neill, he jumped to his feet at attention. Daniel raised an eyebrow at the airman, then looked curiously at Jack.

"As you were, Borgos," Jack said. "No need for formality in this detail. Daniel, would you like to meet the Maybourne from the alternate reality?"

Daniel stared at him. "He's here right now?"

"He is indeed."

"Why do you want me to meet him?" Daniel asked apprehensively.

"It's not so much that we want you to meet him, Daniel, as that we want you to hear, firsthand, what he's saying, so we have someone who's actually met the people in question to validate his claims." Daniel just sat there, eyes wide and staring at him. After a moment, it dawned on Jack what the problem was. "We are not giving you to him. He's not asking for you, and if he did, we wouldn't give you to him." He walked over to the phone and dialed Carter's lab. When she picked up the phone a moment later, he said, "Can you move the party next door? I think one of the guests might be a little uncomfortable with the decor."

"Sure, sir," she said sounding vaguely uncertain of what he meant. "I'll arrange it."

"Good. I'll be down with the last guest in a few minutes."

"Very good, sir."

He turned back to Daniel. "Honestly, we're not giving you back to them. We'd never do that."

"Even if they offered to give you your Daniel back?"

"At this point, I'm being told that it may be months, so I don't think that's even an option. And we wouldn't take it. Can you imagine . . . well, I'm sure you can imagine better than I can just what my Daniel would do to me for putting another one in that position?"

"Months?" Daniel repeated, looking horrified. "He'll be there for months? My God, he'll never survive!" Jack flinched and Daniel flushed. "I mean . . . I'm sorry. I mean, he'll . . . I don't know how he's made it this long with as few injuries as have been reported to you."

"Come with us and talk to Maybourne. He's the one setting the schedule, and he's got the mirror on that side, in Area 51, so us going through to his reality wouldn't do us much good. We'd be stuck miles from where we need to be. And we still can't turn the goddamned thing on anyway!"

Daniel nodded slowly. "Where's the wheelchair?"

Borgos got up and wheeled it into position, then got Daniel into it. "Do you need me to come along, sir?" he asked.

"I think we can manage," Jack replied. "Take some time off. I'll let you know when you're needed again."

"Yes sir," the airman said, opening the door for them. Jack pushed Daniel along the halls where people looked at him curiously. They all knew that while this was Daniel, it was not their Daniel, and they all wanted to know more. Hammond had been deliberately fuzzy on the exact details of how it had happened, but had been abundantly clear that it was not this Daniel's fault that theirs was missing.

Daniel appeared a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but he held up well all the way down to the office where they were meeting the others. "The mirror isn't in there, is it?" he asked.

Jack shook his head. "Nope. Nothing like that."

"Okay," Daniel said, clearly nerving himself up. He leaned forward and opened the door and Jack pushed him into the room. Maybourne's eyes widened and he rose to his feet, staring at Daniel. Jack hadn't considered what effect it would have on the man to see this Daniel still confined to a wheelchair, even after nearly four weeks. Not just that, but a wheelchair he couldn't control himself because he had one arm still in a cast.

"Dr. Jackson," Maybourne said. "I am sorry that my . . . that the people of my reality did this to you. I can't begin to tell you how sorry."

As Jack got him closer to the table, Daniel nodded. "Well, one thing you could do is find a way to get the Daniel that belongs here back faster."

"It's difficult, " Maybourne said. "They've moved him from the room you were kept in.'

"Moved him?" Daniel exclaimed. "Why?"

"They've decided on keeping him. He's cooperating, Colonel O'Neill hasn't done more than rough him up a couple of times, he's only objected to working once, and he took his punishment stoically. Hammond seems to think he's found the perfect Daniel Jackson."

Daniel shook his head. "There will come something, some little task that Hammond will set him that he'll refuse to do. No matter that he knows help is coming, no matter that he wants to live, he won't be able to trade his life for those of others. Not knowingly. It's one thing to translate ancient history, it's quite another to translate current military statistics. He'll never last months." Daniel leaned forward. "He might not last out the week. It all depends on what Hammond gives him to do."

Maybourne grimaced. "I don't know what I can do about that," he said. Looking at Jack he asked, "Does he know about everything?"

"If you mean the bomb, yes."

"Look," Hammond said, "you said a few moments ago that you couldn't get him out quickly without a lot of inside help." Maybourne nodded. "Then get it, by God. I don't know what you have now, but you've said that your O'Neill and your Carter are now opposed to Hammond. Do you have anyone else on your side?"

Maybourne nodded. "One or two people, and the more people who meet Daniel, the more come to that side. Still, it does no good to attack Hammond if all of them are just going to wind up in prison for mutiny. Then you'll have Daniel there, assuming he survives, with no support at all."

"So get proof that Hammond is doing something illegal," Daniel said. "Something detrimental to the White House. Something that will boot him out of there."

"Or manufacture proof," Carter put in. "That might even be better if you do it right, because then you know exactly what you have and can plan accordingly."

Maybourne smiled at her with pleasure. "I like the way you think, captain," he said.

"Will that work?" Daniel asked impatiently. "There are three of us at a minimum who still need to be gotten home, maybe more."

"I realize that," Maybourne said. "I'll see what can be done." Glancing at his watch, he pursed his lips. "I really have to be going." He turned to Daniel. "Dr. Jackson, believe me, we are making every effort to get you home."

"And believe me, I want to go home, but it will be an empty victory if these people lose their Daniel in the process."

Maybourne shook his head, looking baffled, and Jack was amused to see a new person struck down by the sheer selflessness of the man. Was every Daniel like that? Was there a Daniel somewhere who was inherently mean and selfish? It seemed beyond imagining.

"I must be going back," Maybourne said. "I'll come back when I have more information."

Carter took him back to the mirror and they all sat silently until she came back. "The trouble is, all he has to do is stay away and we'll have no way to affect anything," she said as she came through the door. "If he decides he can't help us on the time frame we think is reasonable, all he has to do is not come back."

"Because you don't have a controller?" Daniel asked.

"Right," Carter said. "I'm sorry. I don't have enough data on how the thing operates to create something that will turn it on and shift its focus."

Daniel was silent for a moment. "Here's a wacky thought," he said. Jack raised an eyebrow. "P3X-233, the planet where you found the mirror, you've avoided going back there, right?"

"It's radioactive," Carter said.

"Yes, I know, outside, but the buildings weren't as bad inside, right?"

"No, they weren't," she replied cautiously.

"Well, the mirror was inside a building."

"What's your point, Daniel?"

"Grab some radiation suits and go back and see if maybe, just maybe, there's another controller."

Jack was stunned. Apparently so was everyone else, because they all sat silently with their jaws hanging open.

"That never occurred to me," Carter said in astonished tones.

"Me neither." Jack put his hand on Daniel's shoulder. "See why I thought you needed to be here? We need someone who thinks outside the box."

Daniel shrugged. "You would have thought of it in time," he said.

"No, son, I don't believe we would have," Hammond said. "Girls and boys, let's get moving."

Jack took Daniel back to his room and said, "Hammond's right. We'd never have thought of that. You're unique."

Daniel looked up at him, his eyes filled with emotion and shook his head. "Hasn't anyone told you? We're interchangeable."

Jack stopped dead, staring at him. "No, you're not," he said. "I don't know who was spouting that nonsense, whether it was the other Hammond or the other Jack, but much as I like you and admire you, I want my Daniel back. I'd lay odds that your Sha're took one look at the Daniel they left behind and said, 'That is not my Dan'yel.' And I sure as hell know that your children would not think you were interchangeable. You Daniels are not the same, any more than we Jacks are the same, any more than the Hammonds are the same. You are not interchangeable."

Daniel stared at him for a long moment, then tears began to pour down his face. "I don't know what's come over me. I just . . . it felt like you needed a Daniel in there. Any Daniel would do. I – I'm sorry to be such a nitwit –"

"You're not a nitwit, and you have no reason to apologize," Jack snapped. Daniel looked startled. "You've done nothing wrong. You've been through hell and you haven't completely come out of it yet. Of course there are going to be moments like this. It's okay."

Daniel sniffled. "You'd better go. It sounds like your Hammond wants to get this mission off right away."

"I must confess, that's appealing to me, too," Jack said. "But I don't want to leave you like this."

"Like what?" Daniel asked, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm fine. Go, Jack."

"Daniel, I –"

"Jack, go. Leave me be. I'm okay."

Jack shook his head. "Let's get you back to bed."

Grumbling, Daniel let Jack help him. By the time he was in bed with his foot propped up, he was seeming more himself again. Airman Borgos had also shown up, which made Jack feel a little better about leaving. He pulled Borgos aside and told him to call him if he was here, and if not him, Hammond, if Daniel started seeming upset or agitated. Then he took his leave of Daniel and went to get fitted for a radiation suit.

He hoped desperately that they would find another controller, or something that would help. This Daniel knew their Daniel, obviously, and he was right, there was no way he'd last for months. No way at all.

* * *

Jack hated radiation suits. He hated any kind of suit that was designed to protect him from the world around him. Invariably, they were bulky, uncomfortable, something in the neck itched, they restricted peripheral vision and if you got shot while wearing one, you were pretty much screwed.

"Carter?" he asked as they picked their way across to the building where Daniel had found the mirror in the first place.

"Yes sir?"

"If this place is so radioactive that we can't walk around in it, then what are we doing bringing something back from it?"

"Well, sir, that's complicated."

Jack shook his head and glanced over at Teal'c. "Why did I know she was going to say that?" he asked.

"Because you are a perceptive individual, O'Neill."

Jack gazed momentarily at the Jaffa, trying to decide whether or not he was being made fun of, then turned back to Carter. "Okay, Madame Curie, tell me, why's it complicated?"

"Well, sir," she said, and launched into a long, involved and much too detailed explanation that left Jack feeling as if his head were going to implode.

"Okay, okay!" he exclaimed finally. "I'll take your word for it. Just point me in the right direction, find whatever it is we're looking for, and let's go home and save Daniel."

"Yes sir," she said, sounding both irritated and amused. They went into the building and Jack looked around. He hadn't paid all that much attention to the space the last time they'd been there, he'd been distracted by a damaged and insanely babbling Daniel Jackson. He shrugged at the thought. Okay, so it hadn't been that insane, but the damage had been real enough and had been very distracting on an empty planet.

Carter started sorting through the items on the tables, and Jack glanced at his radiation tag to see how much the suite was getting. They were okay in here, it seemed. He started walking along the tables, looking at the things he saw. Nothing seemed related to anything else. "Carter are you sure –"

"Just a minute, sir," she said.

He shrugged and turned towards Teal'c, who seemed singularly ill-at-ease. "You okay, Teal'c?"

"I do not believe we should stay too long," he said, and Jack wondered how much of it was reasoned reaction and how much was superstition based on that marker by the gate.

"Well, I don't either," he said. "But if this will get us Daniel back, I'm willing to stay awhile."

Teal'c nodded once. "Indeed."

They both turned as a low muttering came from Carter's direction. The words were largely inexplicable to people not versed in science, but she seemed really excited. He wished he had Daniel to translate for the scientifically impaired. Just as that though occurred to him, she let out a growl that was clearly comprehensible. "Damn!"

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"This is it!" she said, picking up a wide sheet of something like paper.

"Okay, so roll it up and let's go home."

"It's more radioactive than anything else in the room," she said in frustration. "We're going to have to get something to put it in to get it back on base."

"What about photos?" Jack asked.

"Radiation doesn't do wonders for photographic emulsions, sir," she said. "And a photo wouldn't really be sufficient. It's a schematic. Some of the lines are very fine."

"Then I guess we go back to the DHD and dial home to ask for whatever it is you need."

She rolled up the schematic and brought it with her, much to Jack's discomfort. In the end, they got hold of a long narrow case that Carter fitted the rolled up diagram into with great care. Then they went back through the gate into very unpleasant decontamination procedures.

When that was finally over, they lost Carter to the science labs and an animated discussion of how to deal with a pliable object that was radioactive and had to be viewed at close distance. Teal'c returned to his classes, having skipped two already. Jack went back to see Daniel.

"Your idea was a smash," he said as he opened the door. Daniel looked up curiously. "Carter found a schematic. The only trouble is that it's radioactive, so she's off with the other science geeks, yourself excluded, to see if they can figure out a way past that little problem."

"I'm not a science geek," Daniel protested.

"You're not?" Jack asked in mock surprise. Daniel threw him a dirty look. "Oh, right, you're a soft science geek."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean I'm a _soft_ science geek or a _soft science_ geek?"

Jack blinked at him. "You're a linguist. Quit it, you know I can't play with words as well as you can."

"It's a reasonable question," Daniel said. "You're always making fun of me." There was a silence, then Daniel cleared his throat. "I mean you're always making fun of _him._ I mean, I assume you make fun of him. I know . . ." He broke off, shaking his head helplessly. "I want my Jack!"

"I do, too," Jack said. Daniel gave him a startled look. "I mean I want my Daniel."

Daniel blinked at him. "This is insanely confusing to talk about."

"Ya think? And I'm at a disadvantage in the wits category."

"Do you know how annoying that is?" Daniel demanded.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"That pretending you're stupid thing."

"I'm not pretending," Jack protested . . . then thought about what he was saying. "I mean, it's not that I'm stupid, it's that I'm not as smart as you or Carter is. Are. See?"

"So, am I ugly?"

Jack stared at him, utterly failing to follow the train of thought. "Huh?"

"Okay, Carter's gorgeous, you were voted most sexy colonel in the typing pool . . . well mine was, but you're identical so that's not relevant. Because –"

Jack stopped hearing what Daniel said, his mind frozen in place on one thing. "What?!" he demanded finally.

"I said that it's illogical to base your –"

"No, back up!" Jack said. "Most sexy colonel in the typing pool?"

Daniel blinked. "Oh, that. Maybe I should have said 'by the typing pool.' They had this little unofficial poll going for awhile. I wasn't supposed to know about it, but . . ." He shrugged.

Jack was still having trouble absorbing things. "But, Daniel, the typing pool is mostly guys!" he said.

"Not where I'm from, at least not then." He shook his head. "This really isn't the point."

"There's a point?" Jack demanded.

"Yes. It doesn't make sense to compare yourself to the exceptions. You should always look at things from the median. You're well above average in intelligence. And I don't know if I even agree that I'm smarter than you. You have different skill areas. People get too hung up on tying intelligence to academic subjects."

"Daniel, face it, there are things you can do that I'll never be able to do. You're way smarter than me. You're so smart you scare other smart people."

"Jack, there are plenty of things that you can do that I can't, so knock it off."

"Name one."

"Tactics. I have no idea how many guys to send in what direction or whatever. You look at a situation, you make a few gestures, everyone does what those gestures mean, we win, we go home. I couldn't do that."

"Daniel, I –" He shook his head. "I guess that's part of what makes people like you. The fact that you don't automatically think you're the smartest guy in the room, even when you are."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Tell it to the marines," he said.

"I think they already know," Jack replied.

"You are a pain in the ass."

Jack grinned. "I know."


	27. Chapter 27

_**Saturday, May 1  
** _ **Reality A001**

Samantha picked up another nugget of ore, then froze as the tunnel around her shook and vibrated. It was deeply alarming. This planet, or at any rate, this portion of the planet, was highly seismically active. There were small tremors at least once a week, sometimes more often. The locals seemed to take it in stride and said it had always been that way. How they could calmly mine underground with this type of seismological activity was beyond her.

A bright light drew her notice and she looked down at the still slightly rocking floor. The light seemed odd when compared to the sketchy electricity the Panu used to light their mines. She lowered herself gently to her knees and carefully examined the thing. It was a broad, flat brown knob that was firmly attached to the stone beneath it. A ring of yellow lights ran around the edge, with a blue one in the middle. Gradually, the yellow lights dimmed and the blue shaded to green, and as it did so, the tremor eased. When the central light was fully green, it flashed three times, then went out.

Samantha sat back and stared at the device she'd discovered, wishing she hadn't found it. Tanako came up suddenly behind her. "Have you found more . . ." She smiled. "This has nothing to do with the ore you wish to study, Lt. Carter."

"What is it?" Samantha asked.

"They are the last of the tools left to us by the ancient ones. They still the rocking of the earth so that we may live and mine peacefully."

"I don't understand. How do they do that?"

"I don't know," Tanako said. "It is enough that they do. Some of the more skilled miners can use them to create very localized movement in the ground to shake free the ore we need."

"So, this tunnel, you said it was only about ten years old."

"Yes. We still get a great deal of ore from it," Tanako said, nodding.

"So, how long has this been here?"

Tanako's smile broadened. "Now you make fun of me. Your people have many advanced machines, you must know."

Samantha wet her lips. "It's been here since this particular tunnel was built," she guessed.

Tanako nodded. "And it will be moved to a new tunnel when this one is tapped out. We move the town with us when we change from one area of the hills to another, and the t'kaio are placed in the most appropriate places. There are four around the stargate at all times, however, so that we may continue to trade our ore."

Samantha nodded and they returned to searching out nuggets of ore that had been left behind. As they walked back to the town, she contemplated her find and the ethics of keeping it to herself. The choice was taken out of her hands, however. When she reached the house that they had been given to stay in, she could hear yelling from inside, though she couldn't understand what they were yelling about. She nodded politely to Tanako, who returned to her own house.

Opening the door, she walked into a huge argument between Kowalski and the colonel that eliminated her little ethical issue.

"I say we should have just grabbed the damn thing," Kowalski was shouting. "The general will want a couple of those babies to get a look at to see if they could be used on Earth, or elsewhere. Can you imagine what a good weapon that would be against the Tok'ra?"

"Since when are we looking for weapons against our allies?" the colonel asked.

Kowalski grimaced incredulously. "Alliances shift, sir, you know that. It's good to have all your bases covered." Samantha gazed at Kowlaski, a dreadful surmise growing. _Alliances shift . . ._

She cleared her throat. "I'd say they'd make pretty rotten weapons against the Tok'ra. How would you plant them without being noticed, even if you could find the right planet?"

Kowalski's expression darkened, and he opened his mouth, but the colonel forestalled him. "That hardly matters. The elder said that if we take one at random, it would shift the seismic balance and possible destroy the whole town."

Samantha stepped forward. "As the scientist on this mission, I'd say it would be wiser to study them in place for awhile," Samantha said. The way they both looked at her made her wonder how long it had been since she'd offered any opinion at all, much less a dissenting one. "After all, they may interact with the local environment in ways that aren't immediately apparent to the casual observer."

Kowalski looked at her with open contempt, then turned to O'Neill. "You're turning into as big a bleeding heart as Jackson."

Jack's face underwent a sudden, violent change. With a snarl of incoherent rage, he took two steps forward, grabbed Kowalski and slammed him against the wall. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Kowalski's eyes widened and he stared in shock and anger at Jack. "You've gone soft. You can't do what needs to be done." It was clear to Samantha that Kowalski wasn't seeing the level of pure madness that was present in the colonel's eyes. This was not good.

She walked forward and put a tentative hand on his arm. "Jack?" she said softly.

He looked sideways at her and some sanity reentered his eyes. He took a step back, releasing Kowalski. "Damn, but you've lost it!" the major growled.

She shot a warning look at him. He gave her a scornful look. She narrowed her eyes. "Damn, but you've lost it, _sir,"_ she said in a deadly voice.

He lost the cocky attitude and crossed his arms. "Sir," he said insolently.

O'Neill raised his chin, seeming much more his old self. He gestured with his chin towards the next room. "Kowalski, you're with me. Carter, get some rest."

"Yes sir," she said, but she didn't sleep much. What was Hammond going to say? What was Kowalski going to tell him? What would he do? Would he have the sense to recognize the value of the ore and balance that with the folly of possibly destroying their only chance of getting at it? She was terribly afraid he would see only the technology that Jack had left behind.

* * *

**_Sunday, May 2_ **

The debriefing had been a shambles. She still sat in a chair at the table with Kowalski, feeling kind of stunned. Hammond had ordered Jack into his office, gone in and slammed the door behind them. Kowalski was leaning back in his chair and smirking, which made her want to go over there and smack him one. She hadn't been dismissed, so she wasn't sure she dared leave, but . . . she could see them in the general's office. Hammond's face was red with apoplexy, and she wasn't sure what was holding Jack back from attacking him physically. Berman wasn't much of a threat.

The door slammed open. "Lt. Carter, get in here," Hammond called.

She was up and moving before she really understood the order. She noticed when she entered that Berman had lost his legendary iron man look and seemed distinctly apprehensive. Jack was breathing hard. She saluted the general. "Yes sir?"

"Lieutenant, what do you know about those devices?"

"Very little, sir," she said. "The natives believe that they somehow control the seismic activity and make it safe to live and mine in the region."

"So you think we should allow the natives to keep these devices and study them there?" She nodded. "Why?"

"Because we need a firmer understanding of how they work before we uproot them and bring them here. We don't know how they function in any way. All I know for certain is that they are movable." She shrugged. "It's possible that with enough study we might be able to duplicate the effect. Frankly, I think the mineral is of great –"

"The mineral will be there whether those devices are or not."

"But it might not be accessible, sir. We'll have trouble getting at it if the ground is shaking constantly under our feet. Even more so if there's a few tons of molten lava over the top of it."

"That's a worst case scenario, lieutenant, correct?" Hammond asked.

"Yes sir, but not an unlikely one. We were there for five days and we experienced two severe tremors and multiple minor ones. If they're that frequent with a palliative, then they'll be even more frequent and violent without." Hammond looked thoughtful. She sensed an opening and dove in. "Besides, the natives are a ready supply of miners, already experienced and in place." She shrugged. "Who knows? If we offer them superior mining technology and a better way of life, they might be persuaded to give us some kind of an exclusive deal."

Hammond's eyes grew calculating. "Oh, they'll give us an exclusive deal. I can guarantee that." She shivered uncomfortably at the tone in his voice. "But your observations are noted, lieutenant, and will be taken into consideration. I believe Dr. Jackson has planned a special dinner for you both." She nodded. Jack remained stoic. Hammond smiled. "Dismissed," he said.

They saluted and left the office, heading silently for the elevator. She could sense the colonel simmering beside her, but he was keeping a lid on it, so it wasn't too obvious. They walked through the corridors without speaking until they turned the corner onto the hall that led to Daniel's room. There she stopped, staring, struck dumb by what she saw.

The door to the room stood wide open, unguarded, allowing free view of the empty shelves and untenanted desk. Jack stopped beside her for a moment, then slowly walked forward into the center of the room where he turned and looked at all the walls. His expression was blank, but his neck muscles were taut with unexpressed emotion.

She walked to the door to the monitoring station and pounded on it. When there was no answer, she opened the door and gazed into the empty room. The monitors, all the equipment was still there, but neatly put away and not in use. What was going on here? What was Hammond thinking?

Jack barrelled past the door, and she took off after him, deeply alarmed that he was going to do something dreadful. When she reached him, he was standing by the elevators, practically vibrating as he waited. She walked up and put a hand on his arm. "Sir, calm down."

He turned incredulous eyes on her. "Calm down?" he exclaimed. "That bastard set us up . . . he smiled and deliberately set us up!"

She nodded. "I know, sir, but getting angry won't help. It will only –"

The elevator doors opened to reveal Hammond with Berman and a couple of other burly young men. _Strength in numbers_ , she thought dryly. "Colonel O'Neill, Lt. Carter, I'm so sorry," Hammond said in a voice that was just oozing with sincerity. "I forgot that you didn't know I'd moved Dr. Jackson to his permanent quarters."

Samantha stared at him in stunned disbelief. What the devil was the man thinking? Why was he goading the colonel? Was he so lost in the power struggle that he didn't see that what he was doing was counterproductive, not to mention dangerous? Glancing at the bodyguards she amended that. He clearly knew it was dangerous.

She was very surprised when Jack responded in a relatively calm, if brittle voice. "Permanent quarters? Where might they be, sir?"

"Follow me."

He led them through the maze of corridors until they reached a seldom-used area that was mostly storage. Past door after door he led them till they reached one at the end of a hall that had a guard standing outside it. When the general nodded, the guard stepped aside and opened the door with his key card. It was thick, like a vault door at a bank, and moved slowly. Sam glanced at it uneasily.

They proceeded through it into another hallway. There were three doors, one in each of the side walls and one down at the end. The side doors looked pretty ordinary, though the one on the left was marked 'Observation,' but the one at the end boasted a guard and strongly resembled the one they'd just come through. As they approached, the guard stepped aside and opened that door.

Samantha felt her stomach knot up as they passed through the layers of security. Why had Hammond buried him so deep in untraveled passageways? Why the incredible level of security? She bit her lip. How were they going to get him out of this?

The simple answer was that they weren't. They would have to wait until he ventured into the main part of the base to make any kind of move. Was he going to be permitted trips outside from here? She shook her head as they emerged into a final hallway. There were several doors along it, but Hammond stopped at the first one.

"This is his apartment," the general said. "The next room along is an exercise room with weights and other similar equipment." Nodding at Jack, he added, "It's large enough to permit you to train with him when his arm is better."

"I see," Jack said. "And all this security is for his protection?" he asked.

Hammond chuckled. "I am not the only person in the universe to recognize that a Daniel Jackson is a valuable commodity. I don't plan on anything happening to this one. If he wasn't an absolute necessity on some missions, I wouldn't let him leave the base at all."

Samantha cleared her throat. "Sir, what about his trips to go outside? How will they be arranged?"

"I've had a couple of ideas, but we'll talk later in the week. Right now, I'm sure you want to see him. Enjoy your evening." He turned away.

"How do we get in?" Samantha asked.

"Either of your key cards will open the door," Hammond said. "Then, when you're ready to leave, simply pick up the phone and someone will come and let you out."

Samantha nodded and watched them go, the door sealing shut behind them. She took a deep breath to collect herself, the put a hand on the colonel's back. "Sir, maybe you'd better take a minute to calm down. We don't want to alarm Daniel."

He nodded and pushed his hands through his hair, pressing the heels of his palms against his forehead for a moment, breathing deeply. Then he shook his head. "Hell, Daniel's probably plenty alarmed already," he said, then pulled out his keycard and swiped the door open.

She followed him in, and her first thought was that this was much nicer than even the general's office. Then she considered that . . . Hammond planned on making the man live in this space for . . . for years, she guessed. It had better be nice.

Shutting the door behind her, she noticed that it made no sound. Creepier and creepier. Now Hammond could sneak up on him.

Jack seemed stuck in the office. Sam walked to the door on the left and knocked. "Daniel?" she called. There was no answer, so she walked down, past rows of books, to the other door where she knocked again.

The door opened almost instantly and Daniel came in. "Samantha, Jack, hi," he said with bright, forced cheer. "Please, come in. I'm sure you'll want to get a look at all the amenities. Or have you seen them already?"

It took a moment for the true meaning of that question and Daniel's brittle tone to sink into Samantha's mind, but the colonel picked up on it immediately. "No, Daniel," he said urgently. "I swear to you, I didn't even know this place existed."

Daniel nodded, looking guardedly relieved. "Well, then, you should see them . . . fully appreciate them."

"Sure," Jack said, and Sam walked along behind him as Daniel demonstrated such things as the dumbwaiter, the garbage chute and the laundry chute, all of which ensured that, barring illness and injury, Daniel would never have to leave this room or see another living person ever again if Hammond so chose. That he was quite aware of this fact was made evident by his body language and the sardonic way he listed off all the advantages of the room features he was showing them.

Suddenly, as Daniel was explaining that he got cable but that a lot of the shows were censored, Jack grabbed him in a fierce hug. Daniel's eyes widened, and he put his hands uncomfortably on Jack's back, looking nonplussed. "You okay, Jack? How'd the mission go?"

"I'm sorry, Daniel," Jack said, his voice choked with emotion. "This is all my fault. I killed you, then I kidnapped you and brought you here. Hammond wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for me."

Daniel shook his head and Samantha saw his hands move as he started really hugging Jack back. "It could be worse," he said, his eyes crinkling with an emotion she could not identify. "Hathor could be in charge."

Jack shuddered. "God, Daniel, do you have to bring her up?"

"I'm just saying, it could be worse."

"That wouldn't just be worse, that would be catastrophic."

Daniel squeezed again then pulled tentatively away. She could tell that he wasn't sure how to tread with the colonel in this mood. "Well, it's not the case, so we don't have to worry about it." He glanced over at her and smiled. "So, you guys in the mood for some roast salmon?"

Samantha's eyes widened. "Roast salmon?" she repeated. "Where'd you get that?"

"It was suggested by the cook," Daniel said, smiling. "I'm supposed to send a message down when we're ready to eat within the next half hour."

"Samantha?" the colonel asked, pulling himself back together.

"I could eat," she admitted.

"I'm not hungry yet, but I have a feeling that the smell of food would get me there," Jack said.

Daniel nodded and walked over to the dumbwaiter. Opening it, he stuck a note inside and pressed the button. Then he turned back to them with a grin plastered on his face. "So, what would you like to do? I have a selection of movies, a few cable channels actually come in, there are some games on the shelves over there, a selection of books . . ." His good cheer was wearing thin. She glanced at the colonel and saw that his emotional state was hanging by a thread. If either of them broke . . .

There was a mute pleading in both men's eyes. They clearly wanted to hold things together, and just as clearly, they couldn't manage it on their own. She stepped forward and said, "Why don't we play Scrabble?"

This broke through the welter of emotions for both of them, and they both began to speak at once.

"Sounds good, I'll get a dictionary," Daniel said, heading towards the door to his office.

"So long as no jargon's allowed," Jack said. "None except military jargon, that is."

The last part of the colonel's comment seemed to catch Daniel by surprise. He turned at the door and looked at Jack suspiciously. "Why military jargon?" he asked.

Jack grinned and shrugged. "Think of it as a handicap in favor of those of us here who don't have a doctorate in words."

"Huh," Daniel said, his eyes widening disingenuously. "You're right. It's only fair." Then he went through the door into the office.

Jack tilted his head thoughtfully, then looked at Samantha. "I think we've been insulted," he said.

"You walked right into that with a great big 'hit me' sign," she said. He shrugged and walked over to the shelves to grab the game. They played on the coffee table until the food came, then they ate. It was incredible. Samantha wondered vaguely if the regular cook had really prepared the food, then shook her head. A meal for three had a completely different set of requirements than a meal for three hundred that had to stay ready and edible for several hours at a stretch. She was probably doing the man an injustice by assuming that he couldn't prepare a meal like this.

The meal finished off with the cook's amazing chocolate cheesecake. Samantha leaned back in her chair, replete. Both men seemed equally satisfied. Daniel leaned forward after a couple of minutes, an intent look on his face. He looked at Jack and said, "Do you know who I am?"

Samantha looked to see how the colonel was taking the question. He blinked several times and took a deep breath. "Sometimes," he said, shifting in his chair. "Sometimes I . . ." He gulped and met Daniel's eyes. "Sometimes I know that I kidnapped you and locked you up, and sometimes I think you're my . . ." Jack's voice choked up and he didn't seem to be able to get any words out.

Daniel nodded. "I know," he said, looking . . . Samantha stared in shock . . . he looked sympathetic. "Has that ever happened before? With any of the others?"

She glanced over at the colonel. She might not have known with one of the others, but Jack shook his head. "No, I never confused any of the others with our Daniel," he said. "I . . . you're so like him, but not. I don't know what the difference is."

"What happened with the others?" Daniel asked gently. Samantha really wasn't sure this was a good conversation to have. She wasn't sure what Hammond would think of it, and she didn't know how long the colonel would be able to keep his cool.

"I got so angry with them, because they weren't Daniel, but they were Daniel . . . I want my Daniel back so badly." His fists were clenched on the table in front of him. "I didn't . . . I wanted . . ." The knowledge of their Daniel's body, lying in stasis, waiting for revival, weighed heavily on her mind, but she didn't dare speak.

"Don't think about it," Daniel said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Jack sniffed like he was trying to keep from crying and said, "When I'm with you, it's so easy to just pretend you're him and things are normal, but then Hammond starts . . . or you look at me like I'm nuts, or something. I keep shifting in and out of focus."

Daniel grimaced. "I wish I could offer help, but there's not much I can do."

Jack shook his head, seeming incapable of speech. After a moment he got up and blundered into the next room, and they could hear him in the bathroom. Daniel leaned back, biting his lip. "I hope I didn't just make things worse."

"I don't know how you could," she said frankly. "What's your Jack like?"

Daniel shrugged. "Very stoic, very reserved and contained. He's . . . I don't think he thinks of me like a brother, certainly. We're friends." It sounded so anemic, and he seemed to hear it. He leaned forward, a bit of energy coming into his face. "Let's go sit by the game. Then Jack will have something to think about when he comes out."

"Right," she said. He walked over and turned on the stereo to some classical music. He then started . . . the only word for it was babbling . . . about a novel he'd read earlier in the day, clearly trying to avoid emotion-laden topics. When Jack came out, they started playing again. Slowly the verve came back into the conversation, and after awhile, Jack slipped out of focus again, calling Daniel Danny. After the game, Daniel insisted that they stay and watch a movie, and around midnight, Samantha knew they really had to go. As it was they were going to have to stay on base overnight to have any hope of getting sleep.

She stood up and stretched. "I'm sorry, Daniel, but we have got to be going."

He stood up, looking extremely unhappy. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry, I've dragged this out longer than you probably wanted."

"Don't be silly, Danny," Jack said, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Thanks for dinner."

Daniel nodded. "Well, good night," he said, and walked them to the door. Feeling distinctly awkward, Samantha picked up the phone. It rang twice and then a male voice said, "Lt. Carter, would you please ask Dr. Jackson to step away from the door?"

She blinked and felt her face settle into angry lines. "No, I don't think so," she said conversationally. "Please just open the door."

"Ma'am, I'm not –"

The colonel took the phone. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked. Then he listened for a moment. Samantha saw Daniel looking perplexed and worried, and raged internally at Hammond's idiotic orders. "Open the door now," the colonel ordered. "I don't care what Hammond said. _He's_ not going to break your nose if you don't open the door right now."

Daniel looked at them both. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Why aren't they opening the door?" Samantha shook her head, not wanting to say it. Daniel walked up to Jack and held his hand out for the phone, but Jack just shook his head. Daniel looked down at the floor, taut as a bowstring. She thought he was trying hard to maintain his self-control. Then he raised his head, looking as if he'd guessed the answer. He took three steps back from the door, looked up at the ceiling and spoke loudly. "Is this far enough, or do I need to be across the room?"

Jack reached out and grabbed Daniel's right arm and yanked him back towards the door. "No!" he growled. He would have said more, but the muffled sound of pain Daniel made, the alarmed look in Daniel's eyes, stopped him. His hand opened immediately, releasing Daniel's arm. "God, Danny, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I didn't – I just don't . . ." He pulled him into a tight hug, continuing to babble apologies and explanations at him. Samantha picked up the phone which he had dropped and placed it on the receiver. They weren't leaving any time soon, from the looks of it.

After a couple of minutes, though, Daniel pulled back from the hug. "Jack, it's all right," he said. "I know what you were trying to do, and I appreciate it, but we have to play the game by the rules that have been laid down. You guys have to go, so I'm going to go over there so you can."

He suited actions to words and there was an audible click as the door unlatched. They went out of the room and shut the door behind them, locking him in. Each successive door was opened for them until they were in the normal hallways again. Jack took her arm, very gently, and pulled her into a storage room. "Samantha," he said in a harsh whisper. "Don't let me . . ." He paused, and she wondered what he was trying to say. "Don't let me hurt Danny again! Promise me."

She stared at him in shock, her own emotions raging in several different directions at once. She was angry that this couldn't have come sooner, she was glad that he was asking for help, she was furious with Hammond for driving him to this level of insanity, she was worried that he would never be quite right again, that he would never cope with what he had done under the influence of drugs and craziness. The desperate sincerity in his eyes tore at her heart. She took both his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. "I promise, Jack."


	28. Chapter 28

_**Monday, May 3** _ **  
Reality A001**

Samantha rose at five-thirty and stripped the bed she'd used in the barracks. Her sleep hadn't been restful, and it seemed pointless to stay in bed. Leaving the sheets on the bed for the airman who looked after the barracks, she went to the locker room and got ready for work. There was nobody there this early, so she had her choice of showers and didn't need to rush. Dark dreams had haunted her all night, and she hoped the soothing hot water would wash them away.

She felt only marginally refreshed when she left the locker room, but at least she was ready to face the day. Work was calling, she had tests to run on that ore, a report to write, observations of the Panu to get down on paper, but all she could think about was the fact that she wanted – no, needed – to talk to Maybourne. He'd given her no way to contact him, which was extremely frustrating at moments like this. Though with the sudden change in Daniel's status from temporary to permanent prisoner, he might seek her out.

So it proved. Near midday, a piece of paper slipped into phase on top of the test results she was studying. It said, "We need to talk. 1400 hours. Usual." She gazed at it for a moment, then flipped it and the first page of the test results forward to look at the second. Then she shuffled them all together and put them into a file. She'd have to get rid of the note later. Going about her work, she contemplated Daniel up in that little suite of rooms.

For a man of Daniel's nature – of any Daniel she'd met thus far – having his world narrowed down to so small a space had to feel unbelievably confining. And so few people . . .

Samantha wasn't naturally gregarious. She often felt ill-at-ease with people in social situations, which was part of why she worked so much of the time. But Daniel, for all his apparent comfort with being alone, was a very social man. On mission after mission, their Daniel had thrust himself forward to talk to the new people they met. Some people viewed it a self-importance, but she knew him better. He eagerly wanted to know those people, to talk to them and learn about their worlds, languages and ways of living. Every Daniel they'd had tried to engage his captors in dialogue. Partly that was an effort to force them to see him as human, but part of it was a genuine need to communicate with other human beings.

This was the only Daniel so far who'd obeyed the directive not to talk to the soldiers who were guarding him, and she thought it was probably because she and Jack had talked with him. Otherwise he would have been compelled to communicate with someone . . . anyone.

Now he didn't even have that much contact, and needn't. His work, his linens, clean clothing, cleaning supplies, all of that could be delivered by the dumbwaiter. She had no doubt that Hammond had calculated that carefully in his plans for that space. It was a built-in punishment for the archeologist, and one which a man with his intelligence and imagination would anticipate with dread.

She shook her head, and stood up to go check on another of her tests. Turning, she found Jack right in front of her. She let out a startled yelp and said, "Sir, what . . . why are you here?"

"It's half past noon, Samantha, and as usual, you are working straight through." He grinned down at her. "I thought it my duty to make certain you got lunch."

"I'm right in the middle of . . ." She could see his determination, and rolled her eyes. "All right. I guess I should eat."

"You certainly should," he said. On the way to the commissary, she caught a few knowing looks, and she could tell that the gossip had definitely made it all over the base by now. When they settled down for lunch, they talked about work, and what she was discovering about the ore samples.

A couple of people were clearly attempting to overhear their conversation for juicy tidbits. She hoped they got something exciting out of hearing her say, "I haven't yet identified the crystalline structure, sir, because there seem to be a few anomalies."

"Of course," he said, "Carter, just tell me if it's good for anything."

"It's a highly stable material that doesn't release toxins when its chemical bonds are broken."

His eyebrow rose incredulously. "Try that again in English, Carter," he said.

She raised an eyebrow and grinned. "That was English, sir."

"All right, how about in terms a poor, under-educated Air Force colonel can understand."

She laughed. "Fine. It appears to burn very cleanly, it burns very hot, and it takes a long time to burn away."

"Oh. And that's good?"

"Yes, sir," she said, rolling her eyes again. He was playing up the dumb colonel routine because he knew they had an audience.

They parted outside the commissary, and she saw a couple of guys follow after him and groaned internally. Now they were going to try and find out all the things that men who hadn't gotten past adolescence seemed to think they should be told about another man's sexual relationships. She'd been the subject of locker room talk before, though, so she could handle it again.

It was less than an hour till she needed to be in Maybourne's office, so she got busy and got there at five past. Maybourne wasn't there, so she walked in and waited. Five minutes, ten . . . she began to worry.

Finally he rounded the corner into the room and walked over to sit down on the credenza. "God, that was close," he said.

"What?"

"Kowalski opened the door to the men's room just as I started to slip out of my stall. I remembered what you said, so I just stayed where I was, hoping he wouldn't choose the end stall."

"What took so long?"

"He did," Maybourne said. "Apparently he needed to have his hair combed perfectly before he left the room."

She grimaced. "I've noticed that. I take it you weren't seen?"

"No." Maybourne took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh of relief. "So, how is Dr. Jackson?"

She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, shaking her head. "He's freaked. What did you expect?"

"I wasn't sure what to expect. We have only the sketchiest description of the suite Hammond's put him in."

"He's a maiden in a tower," she said flatly. "The suite's designed so that he can stay there for months, maybe even years at a time without seeing anyone else. The only means of communicating with the outside world is a phone that rings straight to his guards' room. And to get to it you have to pass through two vault doors."

"Wow."

"He's well aware of the nature of his prison, as well, and I get the feeling he hasn't seen many people since being moved there. We had dinner with him last night, and he just kept finding reasons for us to stay a little longer."

"I can imagine," Maybourne said. "Now, we've got a problem. I've spoken with the previous Daniel, the one O'Neill left in their reality, and he swears that there's no way any Daniel Jackson will survive for months under these conditions. He'll be given something that he can't in conscience do, and Hammond will kill him."

She wet her lips nervously. "I don't know. Hammond is going to a lot of trouble to keep this one. He's using him as a hold over Jack. It's hard to say what he might do."

Maybourne nodded. "How is O'Neill taking this situation?"

"Jack? He's pretty freaked, too." Remembering his plea to her the previous night she bit her lip. "He's gotten to the point of asking for help with his . . . his unthinking way of treating Daniel. Last night he grabbed him, for a reason that wasn't to hurt him or to make him unhappy, but he grabbed suddenly and very hard . . ." She grimaced. "He asked me to help him not to hurt him."

Maybourne's eyebrows raised as she spoke. "That's a very good sign. That's been one of my concerns with the resurrection of our Dr. Jackson. I didn't want to see the cycle start anew."

"No, that would be bad," she agreed. "But enough has changed now that I think it won't."

"We just have to get someone we trust in charge of the SGC, spring Daniel, and then we can focus on finding a way to bring Danny back to life."

"Just that?" she said.

"Easy to say and hard to accomplish," Maybourne said. "And his friends are getting understandably impatient. Look, I need your help. My tap into the mainframe has gone dry, and there's data there we need to get the other Daniels home."

"I'll do what I can," she said.

The klaxon went off, startling them both. "Unscheduled offworld activation," announced a preternaturally calm voice. Harriman sounded like he was announcing a regularly scheduled flight from Los Angeles or something. "Repeat, unscheduled offworld activation."

"I have to go," she said. "I usually head straight to the control room when we –"

"Go, lieutenant, don't waste time explaining."

She was out the door and down the hall to the women's restroom before he finished the sentence. As fast as she dared, she went back into phase and headed out again, making for the control room. When she got there, she saw Hammond, Jack and Lt. Colonel Barnes of SG-18 in the gateroom. "What happened?" she asked, wondering why the second in command of a team on permanent assignment offworld was here.

"Not sure," Sgt. Harriman said. "SG-18 is due for an inspection in two weeks, though, so it would have to be pretty urgent not to be able to wait until then."

"Yeah," she said absently. "Where are they assigned?"

"PR9-353," Harriman said. "The one with the deep vein of naquadah."

"Right . . ." She pursed her lips as she watched them talking very seriously. "Excuse me, sergeant," she said.

"Of course, ma'am," he replied as she walked towards the stairs to the gateroom.

As she reached the little group, Hammond was saying, "Go assemble a strike team, Colonel O'Neill. We want to nip this in the bud." Jack headed off, giving her a short nod and no smile.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Lieutenant, you'll be staying here," Hammond said.

She raised an eyebrow and looked at Barnes. "The miners are rebelling," he said. "It's not going to be hard to quell, but we don't have the resources."

"I see," she said, her mind racing. How would the complacent, depressed, apathetic Samantha have reacted? She couldn't think that way right now.

Apparently the stunned expression on her face suited their expectations, though, because Hammond said, "I'd rather you stayed here, lieutenant. Not that your military skills aren't up to the task, but at this moment, I don't want Colonel O'Neill's loyalties split."

She flushed hotly and Barnes' eyes widened. "Of course, sir," she said. "Is there anything I can do, sir?"

"Not pertaining to this," he said. "However, I would like you to visit Dr. Jackson this evening, in fact, most evenings, to help him to stay calm and balanced. He needs human contact."

_And I'm already exposed,_ she thought with an ironic tone in her mental voice. "Yes, sir, of course."

"Thank you."

It was a dismissal, and she took it gladly. She didn't know what to think of this mission. What did they mean, the miners were rebelling? The SGC wasn't ruling them . . . or had she been missing more than she'd supposed? Had they gone into the business of ruling other worlds? If so . . . if so, then they were just like the Goa'uld. It rather undercut the whole higher moral ground argument. And it wasn't something she could be part of. And if the colonel could be . . .

She shook her head. She was jumping at shadows . . . she hoped. She'd know more when he came back from this mission.

The colonel stopped by a moment or two after she reached her lab. "Samantha?" he said uncertainly from the doorway. She turned to see him in full combat gear, P-90 comfortable in his hand.

"Jack." This was all too new for her to know how to react.

"Look after him, would you?" Neither of them needed to identify 'him.' "He needs . . ." Jack shrugged. "Hell, you probably know what he needs better than I do." She nodded mutely, and he turned away.

She took a step forward and spoke before she knew it. "Sir?"

He turned back, and his eyes warmed up a little. "I'll be back soon," he said. "And I'll do the right thing. You'll see."

Then he was gone, and she was left staring after him, wondering what in the hell that last statement meant.

* * *

At precisely five past four, Daniel put his pencil down and left the office. Hammond had given him a schedule, and he'd be damned if he was giving that bastard one moment more work than was required of him.

Unfortunately, that left him with eight hours of free time that he didn't know what to do with. There was a knock on the living room door as he contemplated dinner and he sighed. Make that seven hours. He opened the door and saw Coburn. Controlling the way his stomach roiled at the sight of the man, he said, "Give me a minute to change."

Coburn nodded without speaking, and Daniel went into the bedroom and changed into the sweats that had started coming the day Hammond started requiring exercise. Then he went to the next room with Coburn and another man he'd never seen before the first day of exercise, Thompson. They spoke only when it was necessary, and once they'd told him what exercises he was required to do, they seemed largely to have run out of things to say.

That was fine with Daniel. He'd just as soon they weren't there, frankly. They probably had to stay to make sure he did what he was supposed to do, but it seemed kind of silly. There were undoubtedly cameras that would tell them quite clearly what he was doing. If he slacked off, which he wasn't likely to do, they could just send someone in to knock him about –

His steps faltered and he had to hop a bit to catch up to the treadmill again. He heard snickers from behind him and he clenched his teeth. His temper was getting dangerously close to the surface. This wasn't a good thing. He couldn't afford to let loose. And all this time alone with nothing to do wasn't good either. Escape was looking like a plan, and he knew it wasn't. He'd begun to look at the grill on the ventilation shaft with curiosity. A glint of metal bars on the other side of it told him that there was no way he was getting through it.

He kept walking. A month of not being able to walk further than ten feet in any direction without approaching a wall had taken a toll on his fitness, and he didn't like to think what this cast was doing to his arm muscles.

He went through the regimen required of him and then returned to his quarters to shower and change into something a little more comfortable. The only non-military garb available to him was pajamas. He was tired of fatigues day in and day out, so he pulled a pair on. It wasn't like he was going out.

The dumbwaiter chimed and he went to see what slop they'd sent him today. It was two plates, and he wondered who was coming, Samantha or Jack? It couldn't be Hammond. He wouldn't be able to eat if it was Hammond.

Looking at the thick slices of meatloaf, fluffy mashed potatoes, both dripping with gravy, and shook his head. This was far too plebeian a meal for that man. He would want to overawe with the quality of the food as well as his presence.

He put the food down on the table, put out glasses and decided to wait on deciding what they'd drink until his guest arrived. Then he walked over and put the chessboard out. From past experience, he thought it was more likely to be Samantha than Jack, and she liked to play chess.

About ten minutes later, there was a knock on the outer door. He walked into the office and stared at it, perplexed. He couldn't really respond without going right up to the door, and the guards didn't want him near the door when they opened it. He grimaced at the paradox. After a short pause, it opened, and Samantha walked in. She smiled when she saw him and let the door fall shut. "Sorry, forgot the room is soundproof."

He shrugged. "I'm glad you're here," he said, and the desperation he could hear in his voice embarrassed the hell out of him. He turned away and went into the living room. "Come on in," he said, trying not to sound gruff and unfriendly.

She followed him into the next room and said, "I wasn't expecting dinner."

Daniel shrugged. "I wasn't expecting you. Evidently the commissary was warned, though." Charming to realize that they knew his evening plans before he did.

"How are you?"

He bit back hard on his immediate, extremely rude answer. That temper . . . he had to control it. "I'm okay," he said lightly. "You?"

"Good," she said.

"And Jack?" He was a little worried. Some of what he'd said to Jack last night could have undone his mental buttons for sure.

Samantha grimaced, and Daniel's heart plummeted. What she said, though, wasn't what he feared to hear. "He's gone offworld. There's a problem and he's been called to deal with it."

"A problem," Daniel repeated. "That's specific." She blushed and he felt bad about his sarcasm. "Sorry, Samantha. I understand that you probably aren't allowed to tell me."

"No, it's not that. No one's said anything either way, actually. It's just . . . I don't really want to talk about it."

He blinked. That sounded ominous. "You don't want to talk about a mission?" he asked. "Is it dangerous? Come to think of it, why aren't you with him? Or don't you folks send women into known combat situations?"

"Daniel . . ." she said, seeming very distressed.

"Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," he said, and applied his attention to his meatloaf, feeling like a jerk.

"It's not your fault," she said. "I'm being weird, but I can't help it." He looked up and she was smiling tentatively. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "Now we've both apologized once. Let's stop now before it goes any farther."

She laughed. "All right. What did you do today?"

He looked down. "I'd . . . I'd rather not talk about work," he said. "It's nothing bad, it's just . . . not easy." She shrugged uncomfortably and opened her mouth. He held up a hand. "No apologies . . . we put a stop to that."

She gave him a crooked smile. "Right. So . . . tell me about yourself. I'm curious about what's different and what's the same." He contemplated his world. He started to speak, then aborted what he'd been about to say, remembering that the conversation about Teal'c had happened without monitoring. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's –"

"No, it's not that. I'm just trying to decide where to begin." She nodded, and he sighed. "I made a complete ass of myself in Philadelphia, and that's when I met Dr. Catherine Langford."

Samantha smiled. "Catherine. She's a wonderful woman."

"Yes," Daniel said, nodding. "Well, she persuaded me to come translate the coverstone, and I wangled my way onto the mission by means of supreme over-confidence in my abilities to find the answer to our return."

"So far that sounds familiar."

"Then once we'd blown Ra up and the Abydonians were safe, Jack and the others went back and I stayed with Sha're." She nodded. "We buried the gate and Jack told the Air Force I'd been killed. He retired, and I settled into the life of an Abydonian husband."

Her eyes widened. "The colonel retired?" she said incredulously. "And he . . . he lied to General Hammond?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, or not then at any rate. Hammond wasn't in charge of the Stargate at that point. It was a military funded civilian project when I joined it, overseen by General West. I guess West got worried that they'd succeed in opening a wormhole, so Jack was put in charge of the project. Once we'd opened the gate, Jack's orders were to determine if there was a threat from what was on the other side, and if he determined there was, to blow it up."

"Wow," she said. "The orders here were to find out if there was threat or benefit and come back to let his superiors weigh the two. They brought ore back, and I was called in to test the naquadah. Meanwhile, Daniel, our Daniel, stayed on the planet as sort of combined ambassador and anthropologist, to get to know the Abydonians. It was the colonel's decision, and I think it may have been related to the rather unexpected marriage. Hammond never approved of that . . . seemed to think it compromised Daniel's ability to be impartial or something. I could have told him after knowing Daniel for five minutes that he had no ability to be impartial."

Daniel tilted his head. "Does that apply to all Daniels?" he asked.

"So far as I can tell, yes," she said mischievously.

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe I'm actually capable of being impartial. What your Hammond calls impartial is probably very partial to Earth's interests."

She blinked thoughtfully. "I guess I see your point. I never thought about it that way."

"I'm an anthropologist. We're trained very firmly not to view our own way of life as 'normal' so that we don't color our observations of other cultures with our own preconceptions about what's good and bad or right and wrong."

"Still, our Daniel always came down on one side or another, emotionally and physically sometimes. Are you saying that you don't?"

Daniel flushed. "Okay, so maybe I do. Still, I think I'm closer to being impartial than someone who always picks our side, no matter what we've done."

She nodded. "So, go on."

"Right. Jack retired. Then, a little over a year later, Apophis opened the Earth gate, raiding for good breeding stock," Daniel said bitterly, remembering the birth of Sha're's child, the boy Apophis had wanted for a new host.

"Breeding stock?" Samantha said. "Here he was just looking for hosts for –"

"Yes, he was doing that," Daniel said hastily and she fell silent. Regret and sorrow were surging through him. "But he had an ulterior motive that I don't believe the other Goa'uld who participated in that particular birthing were aware of."

"How so?"

Daniel grimaced. "He wished to father a child on the host of the Goa'uld who was his queen, which is strictly forbidden."

"How do you know?"

Daniel shook his head and closed his eyes. "A few months ago, I went back to Abydos to see the people I had known there," he said, gulping. This wasn't an easy memory. "Sha're was there."

"But you said she was taken by the Goa'uld."

"She was." Daniel bit his lip. "She was pregnant, and Amunet was quiescent because if she took control of the body, the pregnancy would abort. Because the whole thing was forbidden, Apophis sent her to her own people to hide, so she was Sha're but Amunet was there, within her, dormant. I had a hell of a time persuading her to come with me, back to Earth, so we could find a way of getting the Goa'uld out of her and . . ." He shook his head.

"What?" She reached across the table and took his hand. "What happened?"

"Sha're gave birth," Daniel said. "As soon as the baby was out, Amunet took over again, but it took time for her to recover her strength. I fled with the baby and Apophis arrived to take her back." He closed his eyes. "I've never completely understood it . . . but she lied to Apophis, told him it was taken by Heru-ur. And when they left, she knew exactly where I was hiding with the others, but she didn't reveal us. I've wondered if it wasn't Sha're in ascendance, but still . . . the baby's still safe on Abydos." He pursed his lips. "Last I knew."

"I wonder . . . the host of Amunet in this reality isn't known to us, we don't know who she was, I mean. If that had happened, we wouldn't know."

Daniel shrugged. He hated thinking about Sha're trapped with the monster who had taken control of her. "I was telling you my history," he said. "We just got sidetracked by . . . by breeding stock."

"Right," she said, releasing his hand and leaning back again.

"Hammond had taken over the project. The gate opened, and Apophis came through with his Jaffa, and took a woman, a sergeant. She was killed, according to –" Teal'c, he didn't say. "According to our information. The scientists at my SGC had come to the erroneous conclusion that the gate only went to Abydos, a gate they believed had been destroyed, so Hammond called Jack and the others in and asked them about the mission. Long story short, Jack eventually told them the truth, and he led a team through the gate to Abydos to find out what was going on. We had dinner, then . . ." He grimaced. "I showed them some carvings I'd found that appeared to be gate addresses. While we were gone, Apophis raided Abydos, taking Sha're and Skaara. I went back with Jack and Sam and the others, and joined SG-1 to try and look for her. Them."

"I see," she said. She reached out towards him again.

He stood up and turned away. "I've got a chess board set up, I thought we could play a couple of games." Remembering his behavior the night before, he added, "If you have time. If you have to go, I understand."

She came up and put an arm around his shoulders. "I don't have to go. It's okay, Daniel."

They both sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table and played several games. It was occasionally awkward. Conversation grew sporadic, and largely concerned the games, which suited Daniel. Talking tonight had brought his memories, his regrets, his griefs, far too close to the surface for comfort.

Eventually, he looked up at the clock and said, "I'd guess you should leave now, Samantha. It's almost nine-thirty."

"Is it?" She looked up at the clock as well. "I think you're right." She stood up and as he came around the table she gave him an entirely unexpected hug. The close contact, the comfort of sharing intimacy with another person nearly undid him. "I'll be here for dinner tomorrow night unless something drastic comes up, and I'll try to get a message to you if that happens."

Daniel smiled as she drew back. "Thanks. I'll just stay in here, if you don't mind."

"Sure," she said and went through the open door to the office. He walked over to it and watched the door open and shut again. It was only then that he realized that he'd just told Hammond everything there was to know about what drove him back home. It might not matter. It might be a very bad thing.


	29. Chapter 29

_**Tuesday, May 5** _ **  
Reality A001**

Samantha gazed at the steadily burning sample of ore. She'd started it on Monday morning, and the flame hadn't even consumed half the mass of the ten gram lump. She noted the time and the weight of it, the temperature, and the level of fumes. This was an incredible find.

The sound of a throat being cleared made her turn. Seeing General Hammond, she put her clipboard down and saluted. He nodded and she dropped the salute. "Sir, can I help you?"

"Actually, I just wanted to congratulate you. You got a great deal of personal information out of Dr. Jackson last evening. I may be able to make use of some of it."

Samantha stared at him, then recovered herself. "Glad to hear it, sir," she lied. She'd never been any good at lying, but some buried gift was awakening or something , because Hammond seemed to buy everything she said.

"You're doing very well, lieutenant." She smiled as nausea churned in her gut. "There is a promotion list coming out next week. I think you might want to look at it."

She managed to broaden her smile. "Thank you, sir."

"I'm proud of you, young lady, and your father would be, too." With that parting shot, he left her alone. Her father would be appalled by her behavior . . . she thought. He'd never known about the stargate program, never known about the Goa'uld.

She shook her head and got back to work. What ifs would get her nowhere.

When evening finally came, she set her work aside and went to see Daniel. They had a pleasant evening and by mutual consent discussed nothing whatsoever of a personal nature. She left him calm and as happy as he could be under the circumstances. Of course that was the surface. Who knew what might be roiling underneath? She headed on home and did her tai chi to try to calm herself. Hammond's approbation had hit her hard. She didn't want it, but she couldn't avoid it.

* * *

_**Wednesday, May 5** _ **  
Reality L583**

Jack walked into Carter's lab and sat down. She didn't even notice his entrance, she was so wrapped up in what she was doing. It seemed to consist of a lot of soldering and a few muttered curse words. He picked up a squarish object and started fiddling with it while he waited for Carter to notice him.

A month today. He'd been gone a month today. Jack grimaced, feeling utterly helpless. The Daniel in the VIP suite was starting to try and walk today. He'd been summarily kicked out by both Daniel and Dr. Fraiser for being too much of a fussbudget. So he'd come here, to see how Carter was coming along. She continued to work for about twenty minutes, then sat back and wiped her forehead. Only then did she notice him.

Her eyes widened. "Sir, is there some problem?"

"No, I just haven't seen you since Saturday and thought I'd drop by." He looked over the stuff on the table at the thing she was working on. "How's it coming?"

"It's . . ." She shrugged. "I don't have all the materials required by the specs, which makes it hard to know if it will work."

"No one expects miracles, Carter," he said.

"Maybe not, sir," she replied. "But Daniel needs us, and –" A loud, shrill whistle sounded and she broke off. Jack turned towards it and saw that the mirror was activated.

"Did you do that?" he asked.

"No," she said, hurrying around so that she could look into the mirror. "It's Maybourne," she said.

"This soon?" Jack shook his head. "That can't be good news."

Carter was gesturing for Maybourne to come on through, and a moment later he was in the room with them.

"I can't stay long," he said as Carter went to the phone to call Hammond.

"How long?"

"Five minutes, ten at the most."

"Okay, start talking."

"Hammond just put through a request to get the mirror back."

Jack's fist clenched and he couldn't find words to speak.

"Why?" Carter asked. "I thought you said they'd decided to keep him."

"They have," Maybourne said. "But they've decided they need another hold on him. Your Daniel is looking for his Sha're, isn't he? She's not dead?"

"Not so far as we know," Jack said. "What the –"

"Hammond plans to go through the mirror to some reality we haven't stolen from yet, and grab a Sha're to use to control Dr. Jackson." He pursed his lips. "It would work, wouldn't it, no matter where she was from?"

"You could grab some girl from the street and threaten to hurt her to control Daniel," Jack said. "Or man, for that matter."

"Sir!" Carter exclaimed, looking appalled, and Jack abruptly realized that he was handing the man information that could be detrimental to Daniel.

"Don't worry, I still haven't seen your wayward archeologist. No one's seen him but his keepers, Lt. Carter and O'Neill."

The way he said it made Carter and O'Neill separate from the keepers, a fact which rang oddly in Jack's ears. "What, don't you consider them to be his keepers?"

Maybourne shook his head. "Samantha's trying to get him out, and O'Neill . . . well, he's . . ." The other man grimaced. "He's gaining some hint of sanity back, and I get the feeling it's going very hard. And Hammond's started using Jackson against him."

"How so?" Jack asked, feeling anger start to surge. How could that bastard let Hammond use his captive against him? Didn't he have any self-control?"

"I don't know a lot of details, this is all filtered through Lt. Carter, but it sounds like there's been a fundamental shift in the man's personality. He's asked Carter to help him keep from hurting him. He's never acknowledged that there was a problem before, so this is a big improvement."

"You'll have to forgive me for not giving a damn," Jack growled. "I want my Daniel back here, right now. In fact, yesterday would be better."

"I wish I could provide that, but I've lost the mirror officially now, so Hammond doesn't have access to grab another hostage. It's going to make everything more difficult."

"Damn you, Maybourne, difficult or –"

"O'Neill!" Hammond's voice was tense and angry, and had the effect of a choke chain. Jack stopped sharply, and only then realized that he had been stalking forward, looming over Maybourne. To his credit, he didn't look intimidated in the least. "What's the news?" the general asked

"Our Hammond has sent for the mirror so he can take a hostage to help control Dr. Jackson," Maybourne said. "He found out that Sha're of Abydos is a potent figure in your Daniel's life, so he plans to find one and use her as a means of applying pressure."

"I see," Hammond said in measured tones. "What does that mean for us?"

"It means that I've had to officially 'lose' the mirror, which is going to make visits like this more difficult, and the whole situation much more complicated. There is another thing to think about, though. If Hammond is looking for a hostage to hold against your Dr. Jackson, he's not likely to kill him."

"If he's using him as hostage to O'Neill, he's not likely to kill him," Carter said. "That's not the point. The point is that our Daniel needs to be here, the Daniel we've got needs to go home, and all the other Daniels need to go to their homes. You do realize that there are five other realities where there are groups of us looking for ways to get their Daniels back? With that mirror where it is, you're looking at a heap of trouble unless you find a way to get this resolved soon."

"No one's come through yet."

"It's only a matter of time," Carter said. "I'm already halfway to making a new controller. How far might someone who has their own controller be after . . . how long has it been since you took the first Daniel?"

"About six months," Maybourne said.

"Then you're due for a visit, I'd guess," Carter said.

Maybourne grimaced. "That had occurred to me, believe it or not. It's one of the reasons I've tried to gain control of the mirror. I want to set things right so that doesn't happen."

"Well you're taking your goddamned time about it," Jack said angrily.

"I'm trying," Maybourne said, glaring. "You have no idea what it's like over there."

Carter put a hand on Jack's arm, and he held back his own emotions with an effort. She stepped forward. "How is Daniel?" she asked urgently.

Maybourne's expression softened. "Your counterpart says that he's very upset," he said. "The situation isn't a pleasant one. Hammond has set things up so that he can easily cut Dr. Jackson off from any human contact. So far, he's been kept even more isolated than he was to begin with, and it's already telling on him, she says." He shook his head. "It's . . . I don't know. I'm working on a way to get this dealt with quickly. With Hammond raising the stakes, we can't afford for it to drag on much longer."

"No, we can't," General Hammond said. "When can we expect another contact?"

"Next week, Monday I hope." The mirror came on suddenly and Maybourne turned towards it. "I have to go," he said. "I'm sorry. I will come back, as soon as I can."

He reached out and touched the mirror, vanishing instantly to appear within the frame. Then the image winked out.

"How are you progressing, captain, really?" Hammond asked after a moment.

Carter glowered at the thing she'd been working on. "Not nearly as well as I led him to think, but I will get it. Not today, probably, but before the next time we see him, I hope."

"Good," Hammond said. "Keep up the good work, Carter." With that he left, and Jack sat back down heavily in the chair he'd risen from on Maybourne's arrival.

"Sir, are you okay?"

"It's a month today, Carter," he said. "Something's got to give."

She nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll come up with something, sir, I promise you that," she said, then returned to work.

* * *

**Reality A001**

When the announcement of an unscheduled gate activation sounded through the base, Samantha got up from her lab bench and hurried to the control room. She reached it as Hammond did, just in time to see the kawoosh. He glanced at her and nodded approval at her presence. She tried not to flinch, but Harriman gave her an odd look. Hammond, predictably, noticed nothing.

The iris swirled closed, and they waited tensely for a code to come through. Samantha wanted Jack to come back, but she also thought it could be better if he stayed away awhile. Hammond's influence was pernicious.

A moment later, Harriman said, "SG-1's signal, sir."

"Open the iris," Hammond ordered.

Harriman did and she watched as Jack came through with Kowalski and the others in his wake. Both Jack and Kowalski looked absolutely furious. She followed Hammond down to the gateroom, wondering what had happened. With the way the two of them had been since the last mission, she didn't think it likely that their anger stemmed from the same source. Or if it did, they were undoubtedly on opposite sides of the issue.

Jack made straight for Hammond at an angry stride. "They weren't rebelling, sir. They were on strike, and they had damned good reasons!" he said, coming to a halt in front of the general. Kowalski was shaking his head, but he held his peace.

"I beg your pardon, colonel?" Hammond said. "I don't think I understand you. How is going on strike different from rebellion?"

"Barnes led us to believe that they were a danger to his team, that they were threatening their lives." Samantha listened with a sinking heart. She admired the sentiment, and was glad that she didn't have to decide how to react to a Jack who had done something terrible to innocent people, but this wasn't a good thing either. There was something profoundly wrong with the world when doing the right thing was a bad idea. Jack shook his head. "It's a load of horseshit. They just don't want to go back in the mine till there's better conditions down there."

Hammond's voice remained calm and measured. "O'Neill, you are aware of how urgently we need naquadah?"

"Yes, sir, of course, but –"

"But what? Go back there and get those miners working again."

"I'll be glad to," Jack said in an eminently reasonable tone. Samantha winced. She knew what was coming. Some sarcastic remark or other, and it wouldn't go down well with Hammond. He raised his hand and pushed his cap back slightly. "Get me a couple of engineers, some steel, and some equipment."

There was a silence that hung heavy in the air. After a moment, Hammond spoke, again in that calm voice that was more frightening than shouts. "SG-18 has engineers, O'Neill," Hammond said.

"Obviously they're incompetent boobs, then, because those mines need shoring up, badly."

"I see." Hammond turned to one of the SFs. "Please take Colonel O'Neill into custody."

"Sir?" the young sergeant said uncertainly.

"Cuff him. Now." They obeyed, looking utterly perplexed. She half expected Jack to fight it, but though he looked daggers at Hammond, he submitted. Once he was restrained between two SFs, Hammond turned back to Kowalski. "Major, I'm putting you in charge of this mission. Go back and see to it that those miners get to work."

Kowalski's scowl broke into a broad grin. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He turned to the others and started talking.

Jack shook his head. "This is crazy. What those people need is help, not someone offering to shoot them." Kowalski threw a smirk over his shoulder at the colonel, then returned to his plotting. Samantha remained a silent witness to the events.

Hammond shook his head. "You're not the one who decides what they need, Colonel O'Neill. Peters, Newman, take him to my office." He waited, watching, while they took the colonel away between them, then went to the phone. "Major Coburn, I'll need you in about twenty minutes." There was a pause. "Yes, I'll meet you there."

Samantha stiffened. Coburn? No, not . . . she shook her head wordlessly.

Hammond turned and saw her. "Carter, you're dismissed," he said. "You don't need to see this."

She had no choice. Disobeying would only make matters worse. She left and returned to her office, trying not to imagine what was going to happen.


	30. Chapter 30

_**Wednesday, May 5  
** _ **Reality A001**

Daniel bent close to the document, or rather the copy of the document. Some of the symbols were very hard to make out. He shook his head as he checked closer with a magnifier. He was going to have to get them to bring him the original in order to make this out. He squinted. It didn't help.

Glancing up at the clock, he sighed. Two more hours of his eight. He shook his head and gathered the papers together to put into the file. Putting it on his pending stack, he picked up another file. That was another difference his move to this suite seemed to have made. He now had many files rather than just one at a time. He opened it and looked at the words on the page. It appeared to be some sort of inventory report, in Goa'uld. Weapons, mostly, with a few shield devices thrown in for good measure. Nothing he objected to translating.

A clanking sound alerted him to someone entering the room. He'd taken three of the spoons in the drawer, tied string around them, and draped them over the doorknob to create a makeshift door chime. He turned to see Hammond with Berman behind him. Alarmed by the unexpected visit, Daniel slid off the stool and stood up.

"Very clever," Hammond said, pulling the door towards him and peering around at the noisemaker. "Very clever indeed. I'm sorry, Dr. Jackson, but this isn't going to be a pleasant visit."

It was on the tip of Daniel's tongue to ask if Hammond thought any of his visits had been pleasant, but then Jack came into view. He was in shirt sleeves and he looked murderously angry. There were soldiers on either side of him, and his arms seemed to be . . .

Daniel took a step backward. Jack's arms were handcuffed behind his back. Not a good sign. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Colonel O'Neill disobeyed a direct order," Hammond said.

Daniel grimaced. "So, now you come break something on me. That's so logical."

Hammond tilted his head. "Are you saying that I should break one of O'Neill's limbs?" he asked.

"No!" Daniel said instantly.

"Yes, damnit!" Jack growled. "Break me, you son of a bitch."

Hammond turned. "O'Neill, I really would remain silent if I were you, unless you want to earn Dr. Jackson further punishment." Jack clamped his jaws shut, eyes flashing to Daniel's face. Hammond smiled. "You really should blame O'Neill for this, Dr. Jackson, not me. He knew the penalties involved."

"I can only assume that he had a very good reason for disobeying that order," Daniel said, his voice very taut. His stomach was roiling, but he was damned if he was going to show Hammond how utterly terrified he was. "Are we going to get on with this? Or is my punishment getting to listen to you make pontifical speeches?"

Daniel had thought he'd gotten used to the sight of Major Coburn now, after he'd come every day for four days to watch him exercise and snigger at him. The sight of him now, coming into the room, disabused him of that notion. His eyes were very different, flat somehow, and Daniel wondered suddenly what drugs he was on. He walked in and stopped beside Hammond. Jack's eyes grew wide and worried, and he struggled against the men holding him.

"Don't damage his head or his hands," Hammond said. This seemed to be some sort of cue that set Coburn loose. A manic glee entered his eyes. Alarmed by the sudden change in his demeanor, Daniel took another step back and then Coburn was on him.

A hand came down firmly on his left shoulder as a fist crashed into the right side of his ribcage, and then Coburn slammed him back against the bookshelves behind him. Daniel contemplated horizontal bruises across his back and tried to keep breathing at a regular rate. Fighting back wasn't a viable option. It would only serve to enrage Coburn and Hammond both, though at this precise moment, Daniel was more focused on Coburn.

Another heavy blow landed on his right side. The left was protected by the cast, but Coburn's fingers dug deeply into his shoulder muscles, pressing skin harshly against his collarbone. He caught sight of Jack struggling against his guards across the room. He was yelling something, Daniel couldn't tell what. He wished he could tell him to stop, that it would be over soon, but there was neither attention nor breath for that.

A combat boot came down on his stockinged foot softly, then gradually, Coburn began to exert more pressure. He'd never been issued shoes, presumably to hinder escape and give him one less potential weapon against his captors. The form of this attack was completely unexpected, though, and Daniel cried out involuntarily, leaning forward automatically, trying to reach down to protect his foot. Despite his determination not to fight back, he instinctively tried to push his attacker away with his good hand.

Coburn batted his hand away like an irritating fly and drove his fist into Daniel's stomach, causing the breath to whoosh out of him. Gasping, eyes watering, he nevertheless managed to twist enough to deflect most of the power of the knee that came up towards his groin onto the inside of his thigh. The pain was still enough to make him double over. He dropped to the ground on his side, his back to the wall, bringing his knees up to protect his more vulnerable parts.

"Stop it!" Jack yelled. "Goddamnit, stop it! He's down! Stop!"

Coburn delivered two kicks to Daniel's legs before Hammond said, "Enough." The presence in front of him drew away, but Daniel didn't move. "You're dismissed, Coburn." Footsteps headed toward the door and Daniel's noisemaker jangled as it opened and closed again.

Daniel looked up hesitantly as footsteps came towards him. Hammond squatted down next to him and gazed measuringly into his face. "You'll be fine," he said. He reached out one hand and put a key down on the floor. "This is the key to Colonel O'Neill's handcuffs. I'll let you decide how long he stays in them." Chuckling, Hammond stood up and left the room, the two goons going with him.

The door shut, the spoons clanking together. Silence fell for a moment, then Daniel pushed himself painfully up to a sitting position. "Jack, get over here."

Jack walked over slowly. "Are you okay?"

Daniel evaluated himself. Coburn was good at his work. His ribs were definitely bruised, and he was going to limp for awhile, he thought, but nothing was broken. "I'll live," he said. "You calm?" He looked up into Jack's eyes and saw tears standing in them. "God, Jack, turn around. Let me get those off you."

Jack turned and Daniel picked up the key and fumbled the cuffs off him, noticing the red welts beneath them where Jack had pulled at them in his anger. He was about to say something about them, but just then the cuffs came free. As soon as they were loosed, Jack threw them across the room, making Daniel jump in shock and let out a muffled cry of alarm at the double sound they made as they slammed into the white board, leaving a matched pair of dents. Jack turned back, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Danny, I didn't mean to . . ."

Daniel shook his head and started to push himself up. "It's okay, Jack. You're hurt. We need to get your –"

"I'm fine, Danny," Jack said, helping him to his feet. "Let's get you into your living room. Is there ice in that fridge of yours?"

"An automatic ice maker, and Jack, you're not fine, you're bleeding."

"Daniel! You're the one who –" Jack burst out, but he broke off, gulping and squeezing Daniel's shoulders as he helped him to the couch. "I'm so sorry, Daniel, but I – you wouldn't –"

Danny resisted Jack's urging to sit down. "Jack, you're bleeding, you need to clean those wrists. All I've got are bruises. They'll keep."

"Danny –" Jack's determination wasn't fading precisely, but he seemed confused by Daniel's refusal to cooperate. Clearly his 'Danny' had never taken charge.

Daniel took Jack by the arm. "Come with me Jack," he said. Surprisingly compliant, he followed Daniel into the bathroom. Daniel pushed him down onto the toilet and got the first aid kit out of the drawer. He pulled Jack's right wrist over to the sink and started getting it cleaned up.

"I should be taking care of you," Jack protested, but he didn't pull away, even when he hissed at the pain of the hydrogen peroxide.

Ignoring the increasing objections from various portions of his anatomy, Daniel shook his head. "If nothing else, Jack I don't want you to bleed on me."

Jack subsided then and was silent for long moments while Daniel bandaged the one wrist, then got him to turn so he could reach the other. As he tied off the second bandage, Jack cleared his throat. Daniel let his arm go, then washed his own hands. His words, when he finally did speak, were a surprise. "Your Jack doesn't hit you, does he?"

Daniel blinked and turned off the water. Taking up a hand towel, he considered how to answer the question. Jack – this Jack – was so unpredictable. Finally, he said, "Once. He hit me once – on one occasion, I mean." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Did you ever go to P3X-797? The Land of Light?"

Jack nodded. "With the Neanderthal thing, yes."

"That was when my Jack hit me. He got kind of . . . alpha male at me over Sam."

"How odd," Jack said, shaking his head. "So . . . so there is something wrong with me."

Daniel sat down on the edge of the tub. "I think you already know the answer to that," he said tentatively. He didn't think it wise to lie, but neither did he want to commit himself to the truth. It wasn't a neutral answer, but it was the closest Daniel could come to one.

Jack's eyes squeezed closed and he remained silent again for a long moment. Daniel was just contemplating leaving him alone with this thoughts when he spoke. "Tell me, does he yell at you?"

Daniel snorted. "All the time. He also gives very autocratic orders that make little sense, refuses to listen and takes strong exception to my opinions."

"But he doesn't hit you."

Daniel shrugged. "I think he might want to occasionally."

Jack grimaced. "But he doesn't. What does he do when you scare the living daylights out of him?"

Daniel reached up and rubbed his shoulder where the shrug had awakened pain. "Mostly he yells a lot, and give me long lectures about how I should have grown out of the impulse to touch everything I see."

Jack grinned weakly. "I always figured it was good that he got past the stage of putting it all in his mouth." He looked more closely at Daniel. "Okay, now it's time for you to get some ice."

Daniel let Jack lead him back into the living room. His foot was aching something awful, and his back was a mass of pain. Jack pulled Daniel's shirt off against his protests and looked at his back. "Goddamnit to hell!" he snarled.

Daniel stiffened. "Could you . . . keep your tone less . . ."

"Sorry," Jack said. "Here, lie down on your stomach. I'll get some –" He paused. "The green light's flashing on the elevator thing."

"That just means dinner's been delivered, or . . ." Daniel leaned up and peered over at the kitchen. "It's a little early for dinner."

Jack walked over and opened it. "Ice packs and a heating pad. And a note. Like I don't know this by heart."

"What's the note say?" Daniel asked.

"'Ice for the first twenty-four hours, for no more than twenty minutes an hour. Then heat.'"

"Dr. Warner?" Daniel asked.

"The one and only," Jack said. "Lie back down. Let me get this on you."

Daniel lay down and let Jack pack him in ice. "I don't think I need this much ice, Jack," he said after a couple of minutes. "Mostly just on my foot and maybe on my ribs." With some difficulty, he persuaded Jack to ease up a little.

By the time the dumbwaiter bell went off for dinner, he was reclining on the sofa with a pillow behind him, an ice pack held against his ribs and one resting atop his foot, which Jack had insisted on elevating. Jack went over to the dumbwaiter and opened it. "There's enough food for three in here," he commented.

"We probably expect Samantha shortly," Daniel said. "She usually comes to dinner around six and it's ten till six now." He started to shift. "Here, help me up, and we can get the food on the table."

"We'll be eating around the coffee table," Jack said, hurrying over and pushing Daniel back down.

Daniel shook his head. "I can sit at the table, Jack."

"Maybe you can, but you won't. So there."

Raising his eyebrows, Daniel settled back. "If you insist."

The office door jangled, and Samantha walked in. "Daniel?" she called, sounding worried. "Jack?"

"We're in here," Jack yelled back. "Come help me convince Daniel to stay lying down."

Daniel smacked his hand to his forehead, then ran his fingers through his hair. Now Samantha would be expecting the worst. Predictably, she rushed in, looking desperately worried. She saw him on the sofa and came over. "What happened?"

"Coburn had a little fun," Daniel said lightly. "I'm fine. Jack's just mother-henning me, which I suppose is only fair since I did the same to him."

She blinked. "You . . . him . . . why?"

Jack suddenly tucked his arms behind his back and said, "No reason. He's just naturally that way, I guess."

"He . . ." Daniel found he didn't have the words to explain what had happened. It was an odd, disconcerting moment. He shook his head and said, "Look at his wrists."

She looked suspiciously at Jack, who kept his hands behind his back. "I will, but later." She turned back to Daniel. "Looks like he avoided your face at least."

Daniel shuddered at the memory of that cold order. _Don't damage his head or his hands._ "Yeah," he said, looking away. Jack looked pretty uncomfortable, too, and Daniel remembered the bruises on the face of the Daniel he'd left behind.

She reached down and squeezed his left shoulder. He winced, and she pulled away in surprise. He grimaced. "What did I do?" she asked.

"There are bruises there," he said. "You didn't know."

She smiled at him and seeming to sense their unease with this topic changed the subject. "So what's for dinner?"

"Lasagna, it looks like," Jack said. "Hey did you know there were TV trays in here?"

"No," Daniel replied, surprised because he'd thought he'd explored the whole space pretty thoroughly. "Where?" he asked, sitting up and twisting in order to see. He let out a hiss as this made the bruises on his ribcage scream.

"Lie back," Jack said. "I'll show you later."

Daniel subsided and looked at Samantha who was lowering herself to the floor at the end of the coffee table. "I won't need a tray," she called.

They settled down to eat and watch a show about guns in the wild west. A history of pioneer women followed, and Jack watched it without any sign of boredom. Daniel watched it with curiosity. In this world that gave women short shrift, this was an unusually thoughtful documentary.

"I never knew that," Jack said. "I thought pioneer women were all about weddings and begging for pretty fabrics and getting kidnapped by Indians."

"Sir?" Samantha exclaimed. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Mostly," he said. "But really, a lot of that is stuff I didn't know."

"And did you notice how many of the talking heads were women?" Daniel asked. "Looks like female scholarship is rising here, a bit late, but better than never."

"Hardly surprising," Jack said.

"What's hardly surprising?" Samantha asked suspiciously.

Jack shrugged. "With someone like you around, no one can say that women aren't capable of brilliance," he said.

"No, but they can say I'm an exception to the rule," Samantha said, sounding bitter. "Sam Carter, the son her father always wanted. After all, his real son was such a disappointment."

Daniel suddenly had a clearer understanding of why she might have rejected that nickname.

"That's bullshit!" Jack said angrily, making Daniel jump. "Being smart doesn't make you masculine. God, on that basis, I'd have be a girl compared to you two."

"Sir, I really wish you'd stop saying things like that," Samantha exclaimed, standing up and gathering up their dishes. "It's annoying."

Jack stood up, too, and tried to take them from her. "Sit down. I'll –"

"You don't even know where they go," she said, resisting.

"Children!" Daniel growled. "Samantha, why don't you let him have them and show him where they go?"

"I think I can guess," Jack said sarcastically. "They go in the dumbwaiter, right?"

"Yeah," Daniel said.

Jack made a face at Samantha and she stuck her tongue out at him as she sat back down. Daniel shook his head, then blinked uneasily. He was getting too comfortable here. He'd been so totally alone over the last week or so that any company that didn't think beating him silly was the height of fun was becoming extremely appealing.

Samantha seemed to notice his mood and said, very softly, "Do you want us to go?"

"No," he said instantly, shook his head miserably. "And yes."

She smiled sympathetically, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "That's not giving me a lot to go on," she said. "I don't think I want to leave you alone in this mood." He shrugged, biting his lip.

Jack walked over and thumped down in the chair. "So, what now?" he asked.

The phone in the office rang and Daniel felt his lips twist in a wry grimace. "I don't think you're going to have a choice about leaving me alone, Samantha," he said.

Jack raised an eyebrow at the comment, but didn't ask. Instead he got up and went into the office.

Samantha's eyes had a closed, unhappy look to them. "I really wish . . ." She shook her head and he nodded to show her he understood what she couldn't say.

Jack came back in, his expression sour and angry. "I've been ordered to go home. Samantha, I'm to pass on the same order to you. We need to get off base and rest, according to the general."

"Well, then, good night," Daniel said, putting the ice on his ribcage aside and getting to his feet. Jack rushed over to stop him, but by the time he was close enough, Daniel was on his feet and giving him the look of death. "I'll see you to the door of the living room, at least. They can't stop me from doing that."

His words and his tone of voice silenced whatever protest Jack had been about to make. Jack said good night and Samantha gave him a gentle hug. Then they left. The spoons rattled when the door shut behind them.

He stood there for a long moment, considering things. He was Jack's whipping boy. Hammond probably couldn't afford to have his senior officer unable to perform his functions. The archeologist that he controlled utterly, however, could be damaged at will. And if he chose not to work, punishing him was simple . . . just deny him contact with other human beings. Hammond had him over a barrel, and he knew it. If rescue didn't come soon, Daniel was going to . . .

What? Go crazy? There were plenty of people who thought he had nowhere to go in that direction. Go berserk? What good would that do? He shook his head. His Jack was right. He thought too much. He went back to the sofa and picked up the ice packs. He tucked them into the refrigerator and went into the bathroom. Despite the orders from Dr. Warner, he was going to apply heat to his aching body now. He ran a deep bath and lowered himself gently down, picking up the novel he'd started.

He wondered how much work he'd be expected to do tomorrow.

* * *

Jack and Samantha, by common consent, went to his truck, leaving her car where it was. He drove her home, silently. He'd been silent since they'd left Daniel's suite. Not angry, not simmering, just silent and introspective. When they arrived, she turned to him, not opening the truck door. "You okay?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'm about as messed up as I could be," he said. "Did you know that his Jack only hit him once?" She blinked, almost as startled by the information as by the fact that her colonel knew it. "When he got hit by that virus from P3X-797. You know, the thing where I half killed Kowalski because he was leering at you."

She nodded slowly. She didn't remember the event, precisely, since she'd been in the infirmary under heavy sedation at that point, but she remembered the virus. "His Jack hit him then?"

"For the same reason I beat up on Kowalski." He shook his head again. "I never would have thought of Daniel as a threat of that kind, even with that damned Neanderthal thing going on." He snorted. "I'm not sure whether that's good or not, really, but . . . I . . ." His eyes were desolate holes of misery. "I really fucked up big time," he said bleakly. "I killed Danny, then went and got other Daniels, hurt them, and left them in realities where they didn't belong. Then I went and got this Daniel and put him in Hammond's power. Now they're all screwed, and it's my fault."

"Come inside, Jack," she said worriedly. He sounded too devastated, too depressed to be left alone.

"Samantha, I –" he started, but she took his arm.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," she said.

"I screw up everything I touch," he replied, pulling away. "My son, my wife, Danny . . . I don't want to screw you up, too."

"You're not going to," she said. "I won't let you, remember?" He looked up and his eyes met hers, and she could tell that he was remembering the moment in her lab when he'd started to try to take control the way he always had with Danny and with Sarah from the sound of things. "I won't let you," she said again. "Now come inside. I really don't want to be alone." He didn't move. "I need you."

It was the plea for him to help her that did it, she thought as she got him into the house. She piloted him through getting ready for bed, went out for a brief moment to grab his little bag of clothing from the back of the truck cab and came back to find him sitting in his boxers, staring at nothing. There were horrible, livid bruises on his arms that looked like he'd struggled against restraint. She realized that she still didn't really know what had happened with Coburn and Hammond. Dropping the bag on the floor, she sat down next to him and pulled him into her arms. "I know, Jack. I know."

He collapsed against her and began to weep. When he'd cried himself out, she put him to bed and lay down next to him, cuddling him close. He didn't sleep for a long time, and neither did she, but she held him tightly, trying to let him know that he mattered to her as a person and not just as a fellow officer.

Suicide had seemed to be an option to him in the past, and she didn't want him straying down that path again.

Never again.


	31. Chapter 31

_**Thursday, May 6** _ **  
Reality A001**

Daniel found a note in with his breakfast tray that ordered him to rest up and work if he could. He crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash, and when he'd finished eating, he went into the office and grabbed a couple of files. Sitting down on the sofa, he started working, not at the hectic pace he'd ordinarily set, but enough to keep Hammond off his back, he hoped.

Today was the beginning of his second month of captivity here. He wondered what his friends were doing back home, whether any disastrous crises had come up, whether something had happened to delay them.

Then he shook his head and got to work. He didn't have energy to waste on things he couldn't change.

* * *

Samantha and Jack were a bit late arriving at the base the next morning. Getting him moving had proven to be a nearly insurmountable task. Finally she'd had to remind him that Hammond had ordered him to report to his office, and that any disobedience would be paid for not by the colonel, but by Daniel, who was the only true innocent in this whole mess.

That had gotten him going, finally, and they hit the base at about eight-thirty. Sgt. Jimenez, at the gate, told them that the general had already called twice to see if O'Neill had arrived yet. She put a hand on Jack's arm to keep him from blowing his stack, and they headed into the base. Alarmed by Jack's mood, she stayed with him to make sure he kept his cool all the way to the general's office.

When they got there, the secretary waved Jack in, and Samantha went in with him. She hoped desperately that she could keep Jack under control if Hammond started railing at him. Otherwise, she didn't know what would happen.

Hammond didn't object to her presence, just nodded politely to her before laying into Jack. He'd apparently decided that the colonel wasn't much of a threat, because only Lt. Berman stood behind him today. There was a bank of monitors on the side wall that showed various portions of the base, flipping from location to location every thirty seconds.

She stayed beside Jack, trying to be an anchor for him, to hold him steady and keep him from blowing up. She wondered if Hammond realized just how much danger he was in, taunting a well-trained soldier that had been given aggression enhancing drugs for months. Even if they'd changed the mix, she very much doubted that months of drug therapy wouldn't continue to have an effect.

The atmosphere in the room felt like the tense calm before a storm, and Samantha was terrified of what that storm might bring.

* * *

Daniel tossed the file he'd been working on onto the coffee table and leaned his head back against the arm of the sofa. Nine a.m. He'd been up and working for almost two hours. His body ached hideously, and he'd been given no analgesics. He'd have to ask Samantha about that later, if . . . when she came. He'd iced his foot off and on all morning. It was a lovely blue, as were his ribs. He had a feeling that in relatively short order, he'd resemble a crazy quilt put together by someone fond of blues, purples and greens.

The sound of the spoons on the door clanking loudly and violently brought him to his feet in alarm. He was wearing socks, a pair of blue and black plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt. The closest weapons he had, besides the book on the coffee table, were the knives and forks in the drawer by the sink. Before he'd taken so much as two steps in that direction, three people boiled into the living room.

Three incredibly welcome people. Colonel Jack O'Neill, in full combat gear, Captain Samantha Carter, also all geared up, and Teal'c, wearing a goofy hat that warred with the intent fury on his face. He spoke first. "DanielJackson, are you well?"

"Of all the stupid questions!" Jack exclaimed. "He has a broken arm, Teal'c, of course he's not well!"

"I'm fine!" Daniel said. "How did you get here?"

Sam walked forward, a grin on her face. "Well, I figured out a –"

"Not now, Carter!" Jack snapped. "Get the science crap dealt with later, after we get him home."

Daniel rolled his eyes, this was such a familiar response. He wondered how it had been arranged. Samantha had told him that Maybourne had the mirror . . . Samantha . . . Maybourne . . . the bomb. "Um," he said, stepping back. "Do you have some way of dealing with the bomb? Some kind of jamming thing?"

"What?" Jack asked.

* * *

The phone on the general's desk rang suddenly, and his eyes flicked to the caller ID screen. His eyes widened and he picked it up immediately. "What is it?" he demanded. There was a pause, then he leaned forward and pressed a button. All the screens on the wall turned to images of Daniel's suite. Both she and Jack looked over with shock. They were there, or versions of them were, in Daniel's rooms.

"God damn it to hell!" Hammond growled. "How did they get in?" He slammed the phone down before the person on the other end could even begin to answer and reached into a pocket. "Well, he's not getting away, not on my watch!"

Jack lunged for the general just as Samantha watched Daniel's eyes widen. He jerked slightly, then his eyes went blank. He fell like a log to the ground, and she watched in horror as the trio gathered around him, desperately trying to resuscitate him. She shook her head in mute horror. His heart was so much ground meat now . . . there wasn't anything they could do. Tears began running down her face. Such a terrible waste . . .

"It's too late, O'Neill, it's done," Hammond said in a dispassionate voice. He'd dodged the initial attack and was pointing at the monitors. Jack turned and stared at the image of Daniel, dead on the floor with his friends gathered around him.

Samantha turned and saw Berman standing, his gun raised and pointing at the colonel. As Jack stared, apparently frozen by the image on the screen, he lowered the weapon. This proved to be a mistake. In an incredibly fast move, Jack turned and grabbed a heavy paperweight off the general's desk and lobbed it at Berman. The bodyguard ducked, but not quickly enough. The paperweight caught him on the temple and sent him to the floor.

Without pausing, Jack lunged for the general. Hammond struggled briefly, but Jack was implacable. He dealt with the struggles swiftly, then broke Hammond's neck with a neat twist. She felt her breath coming in short gasps as Jack stood there, holding the general.

Then he dropped him, eyes wide with grief and horror as he turned back to the screens. They were gone, all four of them. The SG-1 from the other reality had gone, Samantha had no idea of how to make the screens change to follow them. Jack collapsed to his knees, horrible sobs breaking forth from him. She wanted to go to him, but there wasn't time. Fortunately, no guns had been fired in here, so no one knew what was up. She took Berman's gun and stuck it in the back of her pants, yanked the cords off the flags behind the general's desk and tied him up quickly, then turned to the phone.

For a moment she dithered, trying to figure out who to call. Who did you call when your commanding officer had just killed the general in charge of your base? Then she took a deep breath and picked up the receiver and dialed four digits. If he wasn't there, if he didn't answer, she didn't know what she would do.

First one ring, then a second, then the third was interrupted. "Makepeace."

"Sir?" she said, and she thought her voice sounded a little wild. Moderating her tone, she said, "Sir, the general needs to see you in his office."

"Carter? What –" He paused, and she could almost hear wheels whirring. "I'll be there in five minutes, tops."

"Thank you, sir," she said, then hung up.

Berman had come to and was staring at her as if she was some kind of an alien, which he probably thought she was. No doubt he thought she was a Goa'uld who'd somehow escaped all the detection procedures they had in place. She walked over to the colonel. "Sir?" she said softly.

He pulled away and hunched into a ball, arms wrapped around his legs. Tears were streaming down his face, and she only then realized that she was still crying as well. She tried again to talk to him, but he wasn't hearing her. There was nothing she could do. She stood up and turned to see Makepeace entering swiftly, and shutting the door behind him.

"Lock it," she hissed.

He did as she'd said and turned to face her, his eyes taking in the scene. "Where's Berman?" he asked after a couple of moments.

"I'm here, behind the desk," he called. "They've lost it, sir."

"He has," Makepeace said dryly, his eyes on Jack. "Are you all right, lieutenant? You sounded on the verge of hysteria on the phone, for a minute there."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not on the verge of hysteria," she said. Evaluating her tone and the way her heart was beating, she went on, "But I can see the city limit sign from here."

"Maybe you'd better sit down, take a minute to –"

"No sir," she said sharply. "If I sit down, I will be gone. I need to stay on my feet and doing something."

Makepeace glanced up at the screens. "Where's that?"

"Daniel's suite," she said.

"Where is he, then?"

"Rescued . . . sort of." She grimaced. "He's dead, sir. That's . . . that's what set the colonel off."

"Damn," Makepeace muttered, looking at the colonel. "What a waste."

"What are we going to do, sir?"

"Well, after O'Neill, I'm next in line to command the base. Since he's clearly not in any shape to take charge, I'm taking command."

"Yes sir," she said.

"And the first thing I'm going to do is lock the base down. Obviously we've had some kind of incursion."

Berman started making strangled sounds. "Bullshit! That was revenge! I'm not going to –"

"Be able to speak for at least a week if you don't shut up right now," Makepeace said, walking over to stand over the bound lieutenant. "What happened here is what I say happened. You should be familiar enough with that, after your years of serving Hammond, right, Berman? You did want to continue to live, correct? Dead witnesses tell no tales."

Berman fell silent, but she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. Makepeace walked over to the phone. "Did you call anyone else?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Good." He made the requisite calls to get the base locked down, then called another number. It seemed to take awhile to get through, and he kept dialing other numbers in the process, until finally he said, "Harry?"

Samantha shook her head. It was too much. They were inviting Harry Maybourne to take over the SGC. A month ago, that would have been unthinkable to her, now she wanted to roll out the red carpet. A pungent smell filled the room as Hammond's bowels released.

She walked over to Jack and sat down beside him. Putting her arms around him, she started rocking him, trying to bring him back from whatever no man's land he'd escaped to, all the while wishing she could join him there.

* * *

_**Friday, May 7** _ **  
Reality L583**

"No, I really think it's a square root symbol, Sam," Daniel said. Jack sat in Carter's lab yet again, this time with Daniel standing beside her at the other end of the table. Apparently he'd gotten over his desire not to be in the same room with the mirror, because he was here and it was here, yet he was utterly engrossed in the translation of that schematic whatsit from P3X-233.

"I'm not sure how much sense that really makes, Daniel," she said. "I mean mathematically."

"Well, I can't judge the math, but –"

Teal'c came in and Jack gladly stopped listening to the science babble and turned to the Jaffa. "What's up?" he asked.

"Dr. Fraiser asked me to come down and see if they had taken lunch yet."

"No, they haven't, but you try getting them to." Jack looked over at them where they were both bending close to the facsimile that had been created of the schematic. "Last I heard they were talking math."

"Dr. Fraiser said that she doesn't want anyone working themselves into illness," Teal'c said. "I do not believe that they are in any danger of doing so."

"She's a doctor. They pay her to be paranoid about people's health." He looked over at the brain trust. Well, half their brain trust and half someone else's. God, he wanted Daniel back.

The mirror shimmered into life and Jack turned, his hand reaching for his hip and a weapon that was, naturally enough, not there. It couldn't be Maybourne again, not so soon . . .

He jumped up and stood in front of the mirror and saw Maybourne. "It's him again," he said, his voice cracking.

"Well, tell him to come through," Carter said. Daniel looked tense, but Jack just shrugged and beckoned to the alternate reality Maybourne. Carter had already reached for the phone. Maybourne entered the room and looked around. "Have you sent for Hammond yet?"

"Just now," Carter said. "What's happened? Why are you back so soon?"

He looked around, his eyes searching all of their faces, then his shoulders slumped. "I think I'd better wait for your Hammond."

Jack thought about pushing, but Carter caught his eye and he settled back down in his chair to wait. Waiting wasn't his forte.

It took about fifteen minutes for Hammond to show up, and they stayed in an uncomfortable silence the whole time. Daniel sat back down in the wheelchair he'd arrived in. He was walking, but not long distances, and he still couldn't handle crutches.

Hammond opened the door and walked in. He met Maybourne's eyes and crossed his arms. "Well? Yesterday you said you couldn't see us till Monday because there were problems with accessing the mirror. Has something changed?"

Maybourne grimaced. "Everything's changed," he said. "Hammond's dead, Kinsey stepped down, and . . ." He trailed off, shaking his head. "And I'm avoiding the main point. At approximately nine a.m. yesterday morning, three people broke into Dr. Jackson's suite." He pointed around at Carter, Teal'c and Jack. "You three, though obviously not actually _you_ three."

"What happened?" Hammond demanded. Jack felt in his bones that this couldn't be good news. If it had been good news, Maybourne would have shared it right away, or he'd have Daniel with him. He repressed the impulse to shake the news out of Maybourne.

"As I predicted, the minute they were in the room with Dr. Jackson, Hammond knew, and he . . . he activated the bomb."

There was dead silence in the room, and Jack could hear a pounding in his ears. Then he slammed his fist down on the lab table. "You stupid, delaying son of a bitch!" he yelled.

"O'Neill," Hammond said sharply.

"Sir!" Jack protested.

"I'm sorry," Maybourne said, and Jack growled. "But it wouldn't have made a difference who it was. If anyone that Hammond hadn't sent himself had gone in there, Hammond would have killed him. It was just one step worse that O'Neill and Carter were in the room with Hammond when it happened. O'Neill incapacitated Hammond's bodyguard and killed Hammond, then collapsed. Carter had the presence of mind to get Makepeace in there and . . ." He shook his head. "She hasn't collapsed, but she's not much use either."

"So, he's dead?"

The voice startled them all. Jack felt his whole body twitch. Daniel was dead, but there was Daniel over there. Just not his Daniel.

"Yes," Maybourne said, his voice full of sympathy that Jack wanted to stuff down his throat. "I'm sorry. There's no way he could have been saved. We're still not sure how they got in and out of the base, but they took the body with them when they went back, no doubt still believing that he was their Daniel."

Tears were running down Carter's face, and the Daniel in the wheelchair looked stunned and bereft. Teal'c looked stoic and Hammond . . . Jack looked away. The general looked utterly devastated. The number of times Daniel had died and come back . . . Jack remembered the way he'd impulsively thrown himself between him and the blast from Ra's Jaffa . . . He pinched the bridge of his nose. "So the body's gone as well."

"Yes," Maybourne said.

"Have you found a way to get . . . him . . ." . . . he waved in Daniel's direction . . . ". . . home?"

"Not quite yet, but it will be soon. I will return with the information as soon as I have it."

"I see. Thank you," Hammond said. His voice was subdued and full of grief. "Please, let us know. This man needs to get back to his family."

Maybourne nodded. "I am truly sorry," he said. The mirror had remained activated, so he simply walked over and touched it and was gone.

There was silence in the lab for a moment, then Jack stood up and walked out. He had to get somewhere else, had to be alone. Daniel was dead, and they didn't even have the body. It was like Nem, but worse, because there wasn't anything they could do. He'd heard jokes about Daniel's nine lives around the base, but it seemed he might actually have come to the end of them.

Reality A001

"Lt. Carter?"

Samantha turned at the new doctor's soft voice to find her squatting by the chair. "Yes?"

"As heavily sedated as he is, he's not aware of your presence."

She looked down at the colonel's peaceful face. "How long will you keep him like this?"

"He'll stay out for another couple of hours," she said. "I don't plan to give him any more after that."

Samantha nodded, and looked into the woman's brown eyes. "I don't like to leave him."

"I understand, but I do need to talk with you more privately." She stood up. "Come into my office when you're ready."

Sam watched the woman move away through the infirmary and sighed. The lockdown had barely lasted fourteen hours. It turned out that the shake up at the SGC had affected national politics, so by the time they were in contact with the rest of the world again, they had a different president and with him, a new chief of staff. There was an investigation into various aspects of how the armed forces had been run over the last few years, and it was touching everything.

Warner had brought a new doctor into the SGC under him and then gone home and attempted suicide. Maybourne had been too quick for him, though, and he was now in one of the isolation units. The new doctor was now in charge, but Samantha didn't even know her name.

Samantha hadn't left Jack's side through all of it. She bent close to him and kissed his cheek. "I'll be back soon, Jack," she murmured, knowing he couldn't hear her. Then she got up and followed the doctor into her office.

"Go ahead and shut the door if you want," the doctor said as Samantha hovered in the doorway.

She closed the door behind her and sat down in the chair the doctor indicated. "I'm sorry, I know someone told me, but I don't remember your name."

"Janet Fraiser," she said, smiling. "I understand you and the colonel were pretty close to the center of this mess. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I'm really not sure what I can tell you," Samantha said honestly, then she realized all the possible interpretations that sentence could have and hastily added, "I mean, I don't know what I'm allowed to tell you."

Fraiser nodded. "I can understand that, lieutenant. How are you feeling?"

Samantha blinked. "I'm not really sure. Numb, I think. I'm having a little difficulty grasping all of what's happened. In fact, I'm not even sure what's happened since yesterday."

"Not a lot, to be honest. I've stabilized Dr. Warner, and there are some people looking after him. I've been looking through his files and we've got quite a mess on our hands. I'm told you know about the mass drugging . . . that you were told recently, I mean, not that you were a part of it."

Samantha nodded. "I was told about two weeks ago I think."

"Well, you're actually one of the lucky ones. Nothing you were on is addictive. You'll have some reactions as it leaves your system, but it won't be anything more strenuous than mild constipation or diarrhea, some depression –"

"Which I probably wouldn't notice right now if it jumped up and punched me in the nose," Samantha said. The doctor gave her a nod of wry acknowledgement. "What about Jack?"

"Colonel O'Neill is one of the unlucky ones," Fraiser said. "The mixture he was on appears to be highly addictive, and I can't even predict all of what his possible reactions could be because there are a number of chemicals in it that I have no experience with. There's at least one hormone that's from a creature called an Unas." Samantha blinked. Nothing would surprise her anymore. "Between the withdrawals and the guilt and other emotions he's likely to feel, he's going to need a lot of support to get well again."

Samantha nodded and met the other woman's eyes. "He'll have it," she said.

* * *

**Reality L583**

Jack sat in Daniel's office looking at the thingamabobs he'd been playing with that Monday a month ago. It had driven Daniel nuts because they were fragile and rare and whatnot. Like Jack would ever drop one of Daniel's fragile, rare thingamabobs. It was a ritual the two of them had played out time and time again.

The door behind him opened. Jack didn't look around. He didn't care who'd come in.

"I thought I'd find you here," Hammond said.

"I'm not clearing out his apartment again," Jack said. "Once was enough, thank you."

"That's a job we can defer till later," Hammond replied. "I just wanted to see how you were."

Jack shrugged. "My little brother's dead. How should I be?"

"Your little . . ."

"The other Daniel and I were talking a few days ago, and that's how I described working with Daniel. It was like you'd entrusted me with looking after my overly curious, accident-prone little brother. And now he's dead, and there's not one damned thing we can do about it."

"The rest of your team could use your support right now, Jack," Hammond said.

"I'm not sure I have much support to give them, sir," he replied. "I feel . . . I want to kill something, someone. And there's no one to kill."

"I understand the feeling." Hammond sat down at the desk and sighed. "It's very hard knowing that there's a version of me out there . . . or there was a version of me that could coldly press a button to explode a man's heart, especially a man like Daniel Jackson. It's beyond my comprehension."

"It isn't you, sir," Jack said. "Anymore than that man in the VIP suite is our Daniel. He's a much closer approximation, but still . . . not him."

"He is extremely upset. He feels guilty, I gather, for not being able to meet their expectations longer, so that kidnapping our Daniel wouldn't have been necessary."

"That's stupid!" Jack growled. "None of us wish it was him that died."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, son."

"I wish it was one of the earlier ones. One of the ones I don't know. One of the ones who doesn't have children."

Hammond patted his shoulder. "Jack, I hate to do this to you, but we need to think about a memorial service."

Jack shook his head. "I'm not ready to think about that yet, sir," he said. "Nem prepared us to accept Daniel's death as a part of what he did to us. I don't . . . I'm not ready for that."

"I understand." Hammond stood up and left the room. "I'll see you later. Let me know before you head home, okay?"

"Of course, sir," Jack said. Hammond walked out and shut the door behind him, leaving Jack alone with his memories.

There was no practical reason to go after a dead body, so that was that. Daniel was gone, have a memorial service and it was done.

Jack grabbed the box of tissues that Daniel always kept on his desk to stave off allergies and tried to pretend he wasn't crying.


	32. Chapter 32

_**Saturday, May 8** _ **  
Reality G298**

Daniel felt very bizarre. His mind seemed to be floating, but his body was like a lead anchor, holding it down to the ground. The muffled beeping of monitors sounded in the background, so he knew he was someplace with medical equipment, which probably explained the odd floaty but heavy feeling. He was drugged. That alarmed him on some level, but he didn't know why.

"Daniel, are you with us?" said a voice that made him want to weep for joy, though he still didn't really understand his reactions.

"J'nt?" he managed to force out through uncooperative lips. "Zat you?"

"Yes, Daniel, it's Janet. How do you feel?"

"Fuzzy," he said. The more he talked, the more easily his lips shaped the words. "Why do I fee' fuzzy?"

"You're still recovering, Daniel. You were dead, so –"

He tried to sit up and only managed a pathetic sort of bounce. "Bomb!" he exclaimed. "Hammond. S'mantha!"

"You're okay, Daniel," Janet said. "You're fine. Everything's fine. You're home and we're all very glad to have you back."

"Glad t'be back," he said, relaxing. "Jack?"

"Sleeping. I'll wake him and bring him here."

He caught her arm. "No. Let'm sleep."

"If I do that, he'll kill me," she said. "Don't worry."

"Janet!" he called as she moved away. A few moments later, a very large and agitated Jack showed up. He was pretty sure it was Jack. His vision wasn't great. He wondered how they'd managed to bring him back from the dead. Pureed heart wasn't that easy to fix.

"Daniel!" Jack gave him a very gentle hug, then sat down on the chair beside the bed. "I can't tell you how glad I am to have you back."

"Glad to be back," Daniel said, smiling. "Um . . . I think I'm going to fall asleep now."

"You do that," Jack said. "I'll be right here the whole time. Don't worry. I won't leave your side. I'll make them bring a cot in here so I can sleep next to –"

"Jack," Daniel said.

"Yes."

"You're keeping me awake."

"Right."

Aware of the warm, worried presence at his side, Daniel dropped off to sleep again

* * *

**Sunday, May 9**

When Daniel next awoke, he felt a great deal more normal. He sat up and noticed that his left arm felt completely normal. The cast was gone, and it felt as if it had never been broken. He looked to the side and saw that Jack was dozing in the chair. Apparently he'd kept the ludicrous promises he'd made about staying beside him the whole time he slept.

However, right now Daniel had to pee, and he wasn't interested in company, so he slipped out of the bed on the other side and went quietly into the bathroom. He felt a little shaky, but not too bad. He was home. That made a lot of things okay. As soon as the door shut, though, he could hear Jack waking up.

"Daniel?" he said. "Daniel!?"

"I'm in here," Daniel called. "Give me a minute."

Jack's voice got a lot closer to the door. "You're in here?" he asked.

"Yes, Jack," he said, feeling close to hysterical laughter at how familiar this all was. "I'm in here."

"I'll tell Fraiser you're up."

Daniel finished up his business and washed his hands. Home, where he could decide where he went and when he did things, at least to a large extent. He wanted to go to his apartment and close the door on the world.

He lifted the hospital gown he was wearing to peer at his body. He saw no signs of the bruises that had covered him the day . . . how long ago was that? How long had he been out? How had they brought him back to life? He remembered the sickening thump in his chest when the bomb had exploded. Shuddering, he forced his mind away from that memory.

How were Samantha and Jack in the other reality? What had Hammond done, and was he going to find himself another Daniel to torment? He let the gown fall and opened the door. Jack hadn't returned with Fraiser yet, so he had a clean shot to the bed. His legs were feeling pretty unsteady.

He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up, very glad not to be encumbered with sixty different medical devices. Putting a hand to his chest, he felt the reassuring, steady beat of his heart, very grateful to be alive. He expected to get a lot of teasing, once Jack had gotten over his alarm, about the many lives of Daniel Jackson.

Janet bustled in and started doing doctor things. He lay back and let her take his pulse, his temperature, his blood pressure. Finally, she said, "You're in good shape, Daniel. I'll want to keep you here for another day at least for observation, but after that, you should be free to go home."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "I'm really looking forward to being able to go outside without six guards and a chaperone."

"Yes, I'd imagine the last thing you'd want right now is a chaperone," Janet said, patting his foot. Daniel knit his eyebrows perplexedly, but she just smiled and said, "I'll leave you two alone."

Jack was staring at him, and Daniel shifted uncomfortably. Finally he said, "I know. I did it again. I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Jack said.

"I died."

Jack blanched. "Yeah, well, you're not allowed to do that anymore, okay?"

Daniel blinked at him. His voice sounded shaky and strange. "Jack? You all right?"

"Hell no, I'm not all right!" the colonel yelled and Daniel flinched. "You were dead. Again!" Daniel opened his mouth, but Jack wasn't done. "You were gone, and then you were dead. Again."

"I'm okay now, Jack," he said. "Janet told me everything was going to be fine. Did she forget to tell you?"

"Daniel, you . . . you make me crazy!"

"And that's news?" Daniel asked, giving him a grin. "Come on, Jack, snap out of it. How's the guy who was left here in my place?"

"We sent him home weeks ago," Jack said. "Carter found a way to figure out where he was from, and we got him home."

"Good," Daniel said. "Good." He leaned back in the bed. "I'm so glad to be home, Jack, I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am that I'm away from there."

"I know. I'm surprised you can even stand to be in the same room with me after what that bastard did to you."

Daniel shook his head. "No, it wasn't the Jack that did those things to me. It was Hammond." He shuddered. "That was a creepy bastard. Cold as ice and vindictive as all hell."

Jack shrugged. "I'm just glad we finally found you. I've missed you."

"I've missed you. And Sam. And Teal'c . . . that was the weirdest thing. I saw Teal'c there, and he was a prisoner."

"Damn those people. They're all screwed up."

"It's all Hammond's fault," Daniel said. He sighed, thinking about Samantha. "How is everything here?" he asked.

"It's been dreadful without you," Jack replied. He leaned closer. "You know how I am when you're missing. Carter and Teal'c will tell you. I've been a basket case."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Jack, that's –"

He broke off as Jack put a hand behind his head and leaned even closer. Daniel was frozen. He didn't know what to make of what Jack was doing, leaning closer and closer to him. When their lips touched, he was utterly stunned. Then Jack's tongue entered his open mouth, and the colonel began to kiss him. Passionately. Very passionately.

Daniel gathered his strength and shoved against Jack's shoulders. The other man stumbled backward, and Daniel scrambled off the bed, staring at him in total astonishment and no little alarm. "What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Daniel?" Jack asked, sounding startled and hurt. "Danny, what's –"

"Don't call me that!" Daniel growled. "The other Jack, he called me that when he was confused. Don't ever call me Danny."

"Did he . . . did he molest you?" Jack asked, starting towards the other end of the bed. "Sexually, I mean?"

"Why don't you just stay over there," Daniel said, his voice shaking. Jack looked even more pathetic, but he stopped coming towards him. "No, this is the first sexual come on I've had so far." Jack's eyes widened further, and he looked somehow devastated. "Would you stop looking like I kicked you? Stop doing the puppy thing. You say I do the puppy thing, but you've got me beat!"

"Daniel, I don't understand," Jack said, sounding confused and worried. "Do you have amnesia?"

"I don't think so," Daniel said. "I'm feeling perfectly normal, except that you just _kissed_ me!"

"Of course I kissed you!"

Daniel felt his eyes open widely. " _Of course_ you kissed me?"

"Yes! What part of 'of course' don't you understand?" Jack asked in exasperation. "Of. Course."

Daniel stared at him, a horrible realization dawning. "Oh my God," he said. "You're not my Jack."

"Daniel, don't say that!" Jack exclaimed. "I –"

Daniel shook his head. "No, you're not getting it. You're not my Jack. You rescued the wrong Daniel."

"What?!" Jack's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding?"

"No." Daniel shook his head. "Have you been in contact with the Maybourne from the reality I was just in?"

"No, why would I be?"

His knees feeling suddenly weak, Daniel thumped down into the chair that was next to him. "Oh hell. That Maybourne has been in contact with my SGC. I got a letter from my Teal'c through him."

"Why would their Maybourne contact your people?"

"Because he was trying to get me home," Daniel said. To his own ears his voice sounded a little shrill.

"Oh, that makes sense, I guess."

"It does?!"

"Yeah," Jack said, seeming puzzled by his reaction. "Maybourne's a good guy."

Daniel stared at him. "Okay, now I _know_ I'm in the wrong reality. My Jack would never say that, no more than he would ever kiss me like that."

"But – I – Dan – God!" He sank into the chair on the other side of the bed. "Then where's my Daniel?"

"I have no idea," Daniel said. He abruptly realized just how worried and frightened this Jack was. "I'm sorry."

There was the sound of a throat clearing just out of sight, and a moment later Hammond came in. Daniel froze solid at the sight of him despite the fact that he knew this wasn't the man who'd been torturing him over the last month. And it wasn't even his Hammond. It was another stranger in Hammond's body.

He clenched his fists in his lap and tried not to let on how utterly freaked he was.

"What's . . . what's wrong?" Hammond asked.

"He's not our Daniel, sir," Jack said, sounding numb.

Hammond looked perplexed. "Jack, I'm sure he –"

Jack looked up, eyes intent. "He's. Not. Our. Daniel!" His face crumpled. "He's not _my_ Daniel."

Daniel crossed his arms slowly, wrapping them around his chest and shaking his head. "Decidedly not," he said. He looked up, then, and stared at Jack. "Wait, you and your Daniel are . . . oh!" He shook his head. "I'm beginning to agree with Jack . . . my Jack! People aren't meant to know about alternate realities."

"God, Jack, I'm sorry," Hammond said, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder. "And Daniel, of course. We genuinely thought you were our man. You don't . . . you don't belong in that other reality, do you?"

"No!" Daniel said. Then, realizing that he sounded a little hysterical, he calmed his voice. "No, I was grabbed out of my own SGC a little over a month ago. Or . . . how long have I been out?"

"It's Sunday," Hammond said. "We got you on Thursday."

"And I was . . . and I was dead." Daniel stared up at Hammond. "How . . . what . . ." He looked over at Jack. "Did you guys say anything about bringing me back?" he asked urgently. "Anything that might lead them to believe you'd be able to resurrect me?"

"I don't . . ." Jack shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Then they've already gone back to my reality and told them that I'm dead, and since they know how, they won't have any . . . they won't think I can be brought back."

"Why not?" Hammond asked.

"My heart was exploded by a bomb," Daniel said. "Didn't you even x-ray me?"

"No, we just put you straight into the sarcophagus," Jack said. "You were dead. We didn't dare wait."

"Sarcophagus?!" Daniel exclaimed, feeling slightly sick. "But . . . what about withdrawals?"

"That's why you were sedated, son," the general said. "You've been under medical sedation since about ten a.m. on Thursday. Dr. Fraiser has developed a treatment that shortens the duration considerably." Hammond shook his head and blinked. "Wait, a bomb? Did you say you were killed by a bomb?"

Daniel nodded miserably. "Hammond wanted a way to control me. He put a remote control bomb in my chest so he could kill me even if I escaped while off world." Hammond looked utterly appalled. Jack . . . Daniel looked away from Jack as he finished the description. If he was anything like the other Jacks Daniel knew, he'd decide that he'd killed Daniel, and Daniel wasn't sure he could cope with that. "He could just open up the gate, press a button, and I'd fall over dead." He grimaced. "I was very closely monitored, all the time. As soon as Hammond knew that an alternate reality SG-1 was with me, he must have pressed that button."

Jack stared at him with wide eyes. "Does that . . . is that . . . did they do that to my – to our Daniel?"

Daniel bit his lip and shrugged, misery washing over him. This wasn't home. He wasn't home. He was in yet another alien reality. "I don't know for certain, but I think I was the only one so favored." Hammond was shaking his head, clearly horrified, but Jack seemed totally devastated.

"What happened over there?" he asked, sounding desperate. "What else did they do to you? What did they do . . ." He stopped talking, but Daniel could guess the rest of the question. 'What did they do to _him_ , with _him_ being this Jack's Daniel.

"I don't know how typical my experience was, truthfully," Daniel said. "In fact, they told me it was very different. I – I behaved differently than the others, or so I was told."

Dr. Fraiser came in speaking. "Are you two tiring out my – what are you doing out of bed?" Daniel looked up at her for a second, then buried his face in his hands. He'd been so glad to hear her voice when he woke up, but despite the similarities, this wasn't home. Janet was beside him in an instant, just like his would have been. "Daniel, what's wrong?"

He just shook his head, unable to formulate a response. What was he going to do? Could these people get him home? Where was their Daniel?

In broken tones, Jack told her what had happened, and she put an arm around Daniel's shoulders. "And I told you that you were home," she said apologetically.

"It's not your fault," Daniel said. "I thought I was home."

"But what's happened to our Daniel, then?" Hammond asked.

Daniel sighed. "I don't know. The guy before me is recovering from his injuries in my SGC, but I don't know if he's yours or one that followed yours. I don't even know how long they held him for."

Hammond tilted his head. "Just how do you know what's going on at your own SGC?" he asked. His tone was neutral, but Daniel could feel his gut clenching up as the general spoke. He sounded so much like the other Hammond in his dangerous moods.

Some part of his internal reaction must have shown up in his physical response, because Janet squeezed and stood up. "That's enough questions for now," she said. "He needs some rest."

Daniel shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm being stupid."

"No, Daniel, you're not fine," she contradicted. "You need to get back in bed. You're shivering." He let her chivvy him back into bed, but he noticed that neither Hammond nor Jack made any move to leave the room. She looked up irritably. "Was I in some way unclear? No more questions."

"No, Janet, I can answer questions," Daniel said. "Can I have some coffee, though?"

"Daniel, you're in shock," Janet said. "Colonel get a blanket out of that cupboard."

"I'm not in shock." He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to still the shivering Janet had noticed. "I'm fine." Jack brought the blanket over and spread it over the top of the covers.

"I guess I'd better be going," Hammond said, but Daniel could tell he still wanted the answer to his question.

"No, sir, please." Hammond paused, looking irresolute. "Janet, hot coffee will warm me up, and I don't want to be alone with nothing to do, either. I can talk about it. It would be nice, actually, to be able to talk freely. I've had to be so careful what I said over the last month that it was beginning to make me a little crazy." The doctor looked at him dubiously, but he didn't know what else to say. "Please?" he asked.

She let out a deep sigh of resignation. "Fine, but only on condition that you stop, all of you," she added, looking around at the whole group of them, "if I tell you to." She pursed her lips. "Better yet, let him tell his story without interrupting him." She squeezed Daniel's shoulder. "I'll be back in a minute with the coffee."

Daniel smiled at her as she left, then took in a deep breath. "Maybe you'd better find a chair, sir," he said. "This isn't short."

Hammond settled down near the end of the bed and said, "Go ahead, Dr. Jackson."

"I was grabbed from my office by Jack and Major Kowalski . . . is he . . . here, I mean is he . . ." He didn't quite know how to phrase the question.

"He died just after our first real offworld mission after Abydos," Jack said.

"In my reality, too," Daniel said, remembering Kowalski's death. "Well, in that reality he's still alive, but he's not remotely the same man. They're all screwed up. Hammond's a greedy tyrant, Jack's insane, driven there by drugs, pressure from Hammond and guilt over his own mistakes. Samantha's a lieutenant and doesn't like being called Sam." Janet came back in with a carafe and a cup of coffee and a plate of lightly buttered toast.

"You need something in your stomach other than caffeine," she said firmly.

He nodded. "Thank you." He took a gulp of coffee and started on the toast. "I only saw one doctor there, and that was Warner, and he's the one who put the bomb in my chest. I got the feeling later that he did it under some kind of duress, but it still made me feel pretty uncomfortable around him."

"I can imagine," Hammond said.

"I was grabbed on the fifth of April. They have some sort of phase shifting technology, something that makes them more or less invisible. I spent the first three weeks or so locked in a room that I think is a storeroom in my SGC. It made a spacious office, but very cramped living quarters. I had a bathroom, a bed, a desk and a lot of bookshelves." He grimaced. "Oh, and the desk had a massive bloodstain on it. I have no idea what that came from." They were all silent and Daniel blinked, realizing what they might be thinking. "I don't think they killed any of them," he said hastily. "Samantha would have been . . . I don't know . . . different, I think, if they had. More freaked."

"You can bleed an awful lot without dying," Jack said bleakly, and Daniel grimaced.

"I know," he said. "Um . . . anyway . . . I gather I started acting differently than the others on the first night. My best guess is that I share something in my past with the Daniel from that reality that the other Daniels didn't, something that made me react to Jack's behavior differently than they did."

"How so?" Hammond asked. "From what the Daniel who was left here said, he was very hostile and violent most of the time."

"He wasn't with me," Daniel said. He shook his head. "Let me give you a little background . . . to help you understand." He explained what Samantha had told him about Jack's relationship with Danny, and how Danny had died. They listened silently, all of them looking thunderstruck. "It's pretty bizarre, I know," Daniel said. "But if you're used to the idea that love can come with bruising punishment, it's easy to accept it, regardless of how unhealthy things are. And the drugs just exacerbated the situation, I'd guess."

"Drugs? You mentioned that before. What drugs?"

"The Hammond there is a control freak of the first order. He was giving most of the staff drugs of varying kinds to enhance or dampen various personality traits, all without telling them."

"Good lord!" Hammond breathed. "You can't be serious!"

"I can. The stuff he was giving to Jack made him more aggressive, and the stuff he gave to Daniel made him more passive, which only made things worse."

Jack was shaking his head, looking cynical. "He killed his 'little brother'?" he said sarcastically. "I think you may be giving the man too much credit."

Daniel shook his head. "You don't understand how abusive relationships work. It was an accident. You should have seen him when I refused to translate something. He begged me to do it, because he didn't want me to die . . . again." Jack looked dubious, but Daniel persevered. "I believe it really was an accident," he said. "He had all the classic signs of that sort of abuser." Remembering the desperation that Jack had shown the day he'd refused to translate that one text. Daniel bit his lip. "After the first day, the only time he got violent with me was when he wanted me to go along with something Hammond wanted me to do because he was afraid that Hammond would kill me."

Jack didn't look remotely convinced, and the general said, "That doesn't tally with what the Daniel who was left here told us." He shook his head. "Why would things have been so different for you?"

Daniel took a long sip of coffee to give himself a little more time and to cover his dry-mouthed reaction to Hammond. Swallowing, he said, "I think it's because I know, deep down, how to respond to that sort of abuser. Jack was looking for a replacement for his own Daniel, but the others didn't react the right way and he got angry. Put that together with the drugs and the pressure Hammond was putting on him to get results, and you've got an explosive combination."

Jack leaned closer, eyes intent and very worried. "You know how to react? Then . . . does your Jack O'Neill abuse you?"

"God, no!" Daniel exclaimed, thinking of his Jack's reaction to that question. "Well . . . unless you count his pretending to stupidity until I'm ready to yank my hair out. And his."

The Hammond sitting at the end of the bed gave Jack a sidelong look, and Fraiser snorted. "What?" Jack said, noticing their attention.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "No, the . . . knowledge . . . comes from something that happened when I was little, and it really doesn't matter. The point is, that Jack made a lot of mistakes and did a lot of terrible things, but he's not entirely responsible for his actions."

"That doesn't make his actions any less harmful to the people he hurt," Jack said, his voice harsh. "How'd you wind up with a broken arm?"

"That was actually what happened when I wouldn't do what Hammond wanted me to," Daniel started, but Jack cut him off.

"So that O'Neill broke your arm because you wouldn't cooperate? That doesn't seem –"

"No," Daniel said. "He didn't." Nobody said anything for a minute. The memory had Daniel frozen. He found it difficult to articulate, and none of the others seemed to know what to say.

Finally Hammond said, "What did happen?"

Daniel shuddered. "Does it matter? It wasn't Jack."

"Who was it?" Jack asked.

Daniel pushed away his emotions and snorted, trying for nonchalance. "Do you mean morally or physically?"

"You're evading the question," Hammond observed. "Why?"

Daniel was having trouble dealing with this Hammond asking him questions. It probably wasn't fair to the man, but comparisons were inevitable, and he really didn't know much about him. Tension filled him, and he felt as if he was trying to make himself smaller.

"Okay, interview over," Janet said, standing up.

"No," Daniel protested. "I just . . . I need to talk about it."

"You need some rest," she said.

Jack shook his head and said, "Daniel, what's wrong? What's making you freeze up?"

Daniel shrugged. "It's . . . Hammond was a freaky bastard in that other reality. He . . ." Daniel gulped. "He scared the hell out of me."

Both Janet and Jack looked at the general, and Daniel grimaced. The man looked shocked and stricken. "Oh. I . . . I'm sorry. Would it be better if I left? I can get a report from Colonel O'Neill later."

"I don't know," Daniel said. "It's . . . Hammond wanted me to do something I couldn't in good conscience do. I refused and he gave me a choice. I could do the work or he'd have Major Coburn break my arm." Daniel licked his lips and took a deep breath. "He sat there and watched while Coburn did it. And then he just left me alone in a locked room, sitting in a chair with my arm hanging."

"God," Jack murmured.

"No medical treatment?" Janet asked.

"What little I got that first day is what Samantha and Jack could manage without raising a fuss. Ice and a splint jury-rigged from a t-shirt and a couple of rulers. Oh, and a sling made from another t-shirt. And Hammond told me I could take the day off from work, but that I should try to get something done if I could."

"So that Jack helped you rather than hurting you?" Fraiser asked.

"He's insane," Daniel said, trying to make them understand. "He's been driven out of his mind by drugs and guilt and unendurable pressure."

"That's an awfully convenient excuse," Jack said.

"He never claimed it," Daniel replied. "Even Samantha never claimed it. These are my own observations." He fell silent for a moment. "He _is_ insane, but he's growing slowly less so, or he seemed to be when I saw him yesterday. He's gone in and out of delusion for the past couple of weeks, though. He kept mistaking me for his own Daniel. I mean, he meant it when he said he didn't want me to die again. I knew when he called me Danny he was off in fantasy land, and when he called me Daniel he was remembering what was really going on. Lately, though, he'd started asking questions, talking about what he'd done. Reaching out for help."

"But you were his prisoner!" Jack protested. "He was turning to _you_ for help?"

Daniel shrugged. "He was a Jack O'Neill turning to a Daniel Jackson to help him understand his emotions. It seemed pretty normal to me at the time. And by then he was . . . Hammond was using me to control him."

"I don't understand," Janet said. "What do you mean?"

"Hammond didn't like the influence their Daniel had on him. He was like me, culturally open, if you know what I mean." They nodded. "Hammond told me flat out that killing people was the second most optimum way to get the technology they wanted. The first was obviously persuading the people to just give it to them. Theft came a distant third, but was still on the table. Danny didn't fit too well into that structure. And neither did any of the other Daniels they kidnapped."

"No, I'd guess not," Jack said. "Ours sure wouldn't."

"So I guess Jack started changing again when he started spending time with me, and it annoyed Hammond. I don't know much of what went on outside my little room, but Jack was really angry about the bomb. He got into it with Hammond one time in my cell, and Hammond sent for Coburn because he wanted to remind Jack of my vulnerability." Daniel shut his eyes. "See, I didn't legally exist. Daniel Jackson was dead and buried. I was a non-entity, a non-person, and Hammond liked it that way."

"I can see why you might find me a little alarming," the general said. "I assure you, I'd never behave like that."

"I believe you," Daniel said. "Unfortunately, that doesn't help much." He shook his head. "I have no idea how I'm going to react to my Hammond when I get back home." He looked around at them. "Can you get me back home?"

"That's Carter's department," Jack said. "We'll get her to work on it right away." He glanced at the general, who nodded.

"I'll see you later, Dr. Jackson," he said. "Don't –"

Realization struck like a blow between the eyes. "God, wait, I have to go back!" Daniel said. "You have to take me back!"

"Go back?!" Jack exclaimed loudly. Daniel flinched and he saw Janet glowering at the colonel. She didn't intervene, however. "For crying out loud! Are you a complete wacko? After everything you just said, you're telling us you want to go back?"

Daniel crossed his arms, leaning back into the pillow behind him. "'Want' is the wrong word," he said.

"Then what the hell are you thinking?!"

Janet shook her head. "That's enough," she said firmly. "My patient needs his rest."

Hammond took Jack's arm and Fraiser began to chivvy them out. Daniel sat forward. "You don't understand!" he called after them. Jack turned, pulling the group of them to a halt. "They'll take another one if they don't have me. Even if Jack refuses, Hammond will find a way! I have to go back. I know how to handle the situation."

Hammond walked over and sat down, making a clear effort not to be intimidating. "Son, I am not sending you back into that. The man killed you, for God's sake. I could never square it with my conscience."

"Can you square it with your conscience that they will be grabbing a man like me . . . like your Daniel, one who doesn't know what he's getting into? At least I know how to handle myself. Hammond killed me on purpose. What's he going to do to the next one?"

"What will he do to you if he gets his hands on you again?" This general was gazing at him with concern. Daniel felt himself go white at the thought of Hammond's possible reaction to his escape and return. The man beside him, a man much more like Daniel's own Hammond if appearances could be believed, leaned forward and took his hand. "You see, son. There's nothing you could say that would persuade me to send you back under these circumstances."

Jack walked past Janet and leaned on the end of the bed. "And if he agreed, I'd have the doc here commit him. You're not going back."

"But –" Daniel couldn't think of anything to say. He had to go back. Why couldn't they see that?

"Get some rest, son," Hammond said. "We'll be back later to look in on you."

Daniel watched them leave, unsure what to do or say. He leaned back against the pillows, completely lost.


	33. Chapter 33

**Sunday, May 9  
Reality A001**

Danny was dead. Daniel was dead. Jack was in the care of two shrinks because he was basically catatonic now. Samantha had been told to go home, but she hadn't. She couldn't. Instead, she'd gone to Makepeace's office and demanded a task. Literally.

So now, because she was one of the few with full clearance as well as the technical knowledge to understand the details, she was going through Hammond's secret files on all the various realities they'd scouted. They'd had two teams doing the surveys, and all of the members were currently under close confinement with Berman, Coburn and a few others whose connections to Hammond were of a suspicious nature.

Each numbered file contained the report of the survey officers, a cost-benefit analysis, and notes on the controller settings used to reach it. She'd had no idea just how many realities had been scouted and rated for their 'Daniel accessibility.' It was mind-boggling.

The earliest files were less well organized because they were created by Jack when he was on his first downward slide, just after he'd killed Danny. They weren't numbered, and there was less detail. On the one that had later been designated A008, the whole cost-benefit analysis consisted of one word. "Bupkis."

But they'd now taken Daniels from six realities, A016, B941, D463, G298, H382 and L583, the last Daniel, the one Hammond had killed. She had trouble thinking about him without tears coming into her eyes. There was nothing they could have done. As fast as the colonel was, he hadn't been able to stop Hammond from pressing that button.

Resolutely, she went back to the file drawer and stared down at the files in astonishment. Their surveys had reached reality M527. On the label was the reality's numerical designation and a rating. 'X' meant no Daniel at the SGC, 0 meant that the mirror was still on P(string) in that reality. Numbers 1-9 represented the level of security on the Daniel and the SGC. All the ones they'd abducted, apart from the first one, had come from realities designated as 1. Chillingly, there was another 1 in the 'M' section where some Daniel was working innocently away, unaware that he would have been their next target.

Most of the realities fell into the 2 or 3 categories. She wondered how soon would Hammond have started on those.

"Lieutenant?" Samantha rose and turned to great Lt. Colonel Maybourne. He acknowledged her salute absent-mindedly and came across to her. "Sit, sit," he said. "There's hardly any need to stand on ceremony."

She sat down. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked.

"How close are you to being able to start sending Daniels home?" he asked.

"I could do it today if I had access to a mirror," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "Let me know when you're ready and we can start getting the Daniels sorted out."

"You do realize that the people we go to visit aren't going to be too happy to see us, don't you?" she asked.

"I do," he said. "But we have to get them sorted. It's our responsibility, so let me know when –"

She picked up the relevant files and stood up. "Fatigues, undress blues or dress blues?"

* * *

It had been months since she'd done anything with the controller or the mirror. After a fairly rocky start, the first three realities proved to be almost too easy, apart from the guns pointing at them and other minor inconveniences, like pantyhose. Dress blues were more earnest and considerably less threatening, but they weren't the most comfortable clothes to wear.

They skipped the first one from which Jack had stolen a Daniel, A016, because Samantha didn't want to go there without either a Daniel to return or news of their Daniel at the very least. Instead, they started with the second one, B941, but when they got there, they found that the folks there had managed to return the Daniel that didn't belong to them after about two months. Within several weeks, their own Daniel had been returned from D463. Unfortunately, that reality had waited closer to three months for their Daniel's homecoming, but he was, nevertheless, home. They had nothing to do in those realities but extricate themselves with grace after telling the people that the threat from them was gone.

With three realities under their belts, and her stomach roiling with guilt given the reactions they'd received from the people who'd been so badly wronged, Samantha turned on the mirror and tried to set the controller for G298. As soon as she hit that spot, the mirror turned itself off. Blinking with surprise, she turned the mirror on again. The controller had reverted to the previous setting as soon as the power had gone. She tried to set it for G298 again.

"What does it mean?" Maybourne asked after her third failed attempt.

"I don't know for certain," Samantha said, feeling very out of her depth. This had never happened before, so far as she knew.

She flipped open the file for G298 and started looking at it more closely. She'd done no more than scan the contents of the files because she had trouble reading the details. More often than not, after the first few, the mission log portion of the file was written by Kowalski. He was still offworld. Makepeace hadn't decided what to do about the teams that were still out there. She hoped he wasn't committing terrible atrocities.

Focusing her thoughts on the file, she started reading. Near the end of the log, she saw something that made her heart stop. The word 'bomb' in the typed text of Kowalski's report.

_I placed the bomb on the mirror in G298 and set it for fifty seconds as per orders. When I came through the mirror, though, I couldn't get it to disengage. O'Neill had already taken the prisoner away, so I was alone, and nothing I attempted was successful. I sent for Lt. Carter, but she wasn't on base._

_After fifty seconds, the bomb went off, sending shrapnel through the mirror. I dropped to the floor, and when I rose again, the mirror was no longer on. I reactivated the mirror and attempted to set it for G298, but it lost power every time I reached that setting. Going past it took some effort, so I would advise against any more attempts to destroy the potential means of pursuit._

She stared at the words that Hammond had written in black ink beneath the last paragraph of the report. _First attempt produced mixed results. No further trials will be made._

"What is it?" Maybourne asked impatiently.

It was probably the third or fourth time he'd asked, but this time she didn't hush him. She looked up at him and said, "We have a problem." Looking down at the pages. "I didn't read this as closely as I should have, I guess. It never occurred to me . . ."

"What?"

"They destroyed the mirror in that reality," she said.

Maybourne goggled at her briefly, then shook his head. "That doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean? It was destroyed. Kowalski set a bomb, and then he had the same results every time he tried to activate the mirror that we've been having. The thing is destroyed."

He pursed his lips. "Unless Kowalski did that weeks after the abduction, by which time we would have had a different Daniel, it's just not possible."

"It wasn't weeks later," she said. "It was clearly the same day." She stared unseeing at the mirror, remembering the odd looks they'd gotten as the people in D463 had told them about their Daniel's return, and the images that the video tape had captured while she and Jack had been occupied with the death of Hammond. She hadn't seen it then, but she'd seen it now. They hadn't left the room to seek out the mirror, which hadn't been on base at that time in any case. Captain Carter had reached to something on her shoulder that appeared to be attached to a backpack, and a field of energy had taken them away. "The SG-1 who tried to rescue Daniel didn't use a mirror." Maybourne nodded, eyes narrowing. "We thought it was because they had found another method of reality hopping and preferred the stealth. Maybe it's much simpler than that."

Maybourne's eyes widened. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "Maybe they don't have a mirror," he said.

She nodded, closing her eyes. "But that would mean that . . . not only do they not know they've got the wrong Daniel, but we can't return their Daniel to them when we find him."

"Because we can't contact them without a mirror."

"Exactly." She dropped her chin to her chest. Every time she thought things were getting better, the mountain of wretchedness just got higher. Those people would bury Daniel and never go out looking for their own. Why would they bother with the man apparently dead?

"So what do we do?" Maybourne asked.

Samantha shook her head. "This isn't our decision."

"Makepeace, right," he said.

She stared at him. "No, that's not what I meant! This is their decision. The Daniels. They've had enough decisions made for them at this point, don't you think?"

Maybourne pursed his lips dubiously. "I see what your point, but I still think we ought to bring this to Makepeace first. He is the acting base commander."

"Of course, sir," she replied. It was nearly six in the afternoon. She had a feeling that spelled the end of visits for today. What were they going to do about the Daniel they couldn't send home?

* * *

**Reality L583**

Jack put the fish food into the tank and sat down across from it, just watching the fish swim back and forth. It would have to go home with him, he supposed, when the apartment was packed up. He had enough space for an aquarium, and keeping his pets alive would be a more fitting memorial to Daniel than sending a wreath of flowers through the gate.

The phone rang, but Jack didn't move. He just sat still, staring at the fish. When the machine picked up, Daniel's voice rose tinnily from it. Jack buried his face in his hands as Daniel told his caller to leave a message and he'd get back to them as soon as possible. The beep sounded, signaling the end of Daniel's recording, and it lasted awhile, indicating that there were quite a number of messages. Jack wondered who they were from.

After the beep stopped, Jack heard Carter's voice. "Sir? Sir, are you there?" She paused and Jack considered the logistics of getting up. "Colonel, if you are there, or if you get this message, we need you to call the garage. We . . . we're worried about you." There was a sigh followed by a click.

After a moment, Jack popped his mobile off his hip and turned it on for the first time in days. It beeped, telling him that he'd received at least one message since he last checked. He pressed the button that shut it up and dialed the base switchboard.

Carter picked up her lab phone on the first ring. "Hello?"

"What's up?" he asked.

"Sir!" she exclaimed. Her voice went quiet for a moment, and he could tell she was talking to someone else. "It's the colonel," she said, and Jack grimaced, closing his eyes and thumping his head into the back of the chair. Her voice came back full strength, then, as she said, "Are you all right?"

"I've been better," he said. "Why all the concern?"

"You vanished from the base on Friday and no one's been able to locate you since."

He shrugged. "I turned off my phone and went for a walk."

"For two days?!"

"Technically, it's only a day and a half."

"If you want to get technical, sir, it's more than a day and three-quarters."

"How do you figure?" he asked irritably, knowing he shouldn't be arguing numbers with an astrophysicist.

"7:45 p.m. Friday to 3:15 p.m. on Sunday, sir. Do you want me to do the math?"

He ignored the remark and got back to essentials. "I'm fine, Carter. Who's there with you?"

"Teal'c and General Hammond."

He nodded and sat forward. "Let me talk to the general, would you?"

"Sure," she said, handing the phone off.

"Colonel, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, sir," Jack said. He took a deep breath. "I thought it only fair to warn you. My letter of resignation will be on your desk first thing Monday morning."

"Jack!" Hammond exclaimed, but Jack didn't give him time to say anything more.

"I'll see you in the morning, sir," he said and flipped the phone closed.

* * *

**Reality G298**

Daniel had managed to filch some scrubs from the main room of the infirmary while no one was looking. He pulled them on. Yes, he still felt a little light-headed, yes, his legs still felt a bit rubbery, but he was damned if he was going to give up the argument because Janet had banned the people he was arguing with from the infirmary.

He waited until there was no one in that room again, then walked out into the halls. No one called after him or said anything, and Daniel reveled in the feeling of walking through the halls without restraint. He got funny looks from the few people who were on base on a Sunday evening, but no one tried to stop him. He headed straight for the room that was Hammond's office in his own reality.

The secretary stared at him open-mouthed and made no move either to alert the general to his presence or to stop Daniel from going in. He opened the door and walked inside to find the general sitting at his desk with a mound of paperwork in front of him.

Hammond looked up and his eyes widened. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Daniel flinched from the angry tone, but he walked in and shut the door. "I see your office is in the same place," he said.

"How did you get out of the infirmary?"

Daniel shrugged. "I walked out," he said. "They were kind of busy, I guess. I hope nothing's wrong."

"Something of a flu epidemic," Hammond said. "Nothing serious. But why did you come here?" The phone rang and Hammond picked it up. "Hammond." His expression grew sour. "Yes, doctor, I know. Your information is a little late . . . Yes, he's in front of me now . . . thank you, doctor."

Daniel flushed, knowing that Janet was probably a little annoyed with him right now. "I need to speak with you, sir, and it can't wait."

"Very well," Hammond said. "Have a seat."

Daniel sat down. "I need to go back," he said without preamble. "They're going to grab another Daniel."

"No, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said. "You're not going back."

"You don't understand," Daniel exclaimed. "If they grab another Daniel who doesn't match with their expectations, horrible things could happen to him. I match with what they want, and –"

"Dr. Jackson, if there was a serial killer who was torturing someone and we got them back, I would not send them back to be tortured so that the killer wouldn't select a new victim. Would you?"

Daniel bit his lip. "I would go back myself," he said.

Hammond stared at him in silence, then spoke, his voice firmer than before. "Yes, I believe you would. I'm not sending you back."

"Jack was getting better, and it was partly my influence. Besides, my people know where I am there, they're working on getting me home."

"We will get you home, Dr. Jackson. Captain Carter is already working on it. It may take some time, but we will –"

"How much time?" Daniel asked.

"A few weeks, perhaps."

"Weeks!?"

"It took awhile for her to work out how to send the other Daniel back to his home, but he is now safely home and well. I promise you, we will get you home before we go looking for our own Daniel."

"See, if I go back, you can start looking for your –"

"Absolutely not!" Hammond growled.

Daniel shrank back in his chair, eyes wide with shock at the sudden shift in the man's tone. "I'm not suggesting you abandon me to my fate. I just . . . they need me . . ." He trailed off, unable to put coherent words together.

Hammond stood up with the clear intention of coming around the desk, and despite his effort to stop himself, Daniel flinched away. "Son, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you."

Daniel shook his head to dismiss the need for the apology. He'd started trembling, and he strove to control it, not wanting to seem like there was something wrong with him. He had to convince Hammond that he was right. "Please, sir, you've –"

The door behind him opened and Jack came rushing in. "Damn it Daniel, what are you –"

The yelling and sudden approach made Daniel cringe even deeper in the chair. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, aware that he had to look like a nut, but he couldn't help it. How long was this going to last?

Jack put a gentle arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. "I'm sorry, Daniel, I shouldn't have yelled, but you scared me." Daniel made no response, just pulled in tighter. He felt like a fool, but he couldn't help himself. His brain seemed to have turned to so much quivering mush. Tears began to pour down his face and he couldn't stop. Jack sat on the arm of the chair and pulled him close. "It's okay, Daniel. It's okay."

Hysteria was fast taking over. He turned into Jack's embrace and let himself weep.


	34. Chapter 34

_**Monday, May 10** _ **  
Reality H382**

Samantha raised her hands for the fourth time. For some reason, none of these realities were very receptive to visitors coming through the mirror. Maybourne, looking as dour as he had the first three times, did the same.

The very serious, very polite young airmen held them under guard until reinforcements arrived in the form of a lieutenant and a couple of sergeants. The sergeants patted them down and led them to a small lab nearby that was empty apart from the tables and benches.

"Sir, ma'am, please take seats and keep your hands where we can see them," the lieutenant said as the two sergeants took up positions on either side of the door.

She and Maybourne had decided that he would keep his mouth shut unless it proved necessary for him to speak. It seemed that he was considered to be less than trustworthy in most of the realities, but Makepeace didn't have anyone else to send with her and he refused to send her alone.

After complying with the instructions, Samantha cleared her throat. "Can we please see your base commander and Colonel Jack O'Neill?" she asked.

"They are already on their way, ma'am," he said. She nodded and settled back to wait. It didn't take long. Hammond was a three star here, but O'Neill was still a colonel. They walked in looking somber and wary. Then her eyes widened as Captain Carter and a Teal'c who was dressed in fatigues walked in behind them. So far, in the other realities, they hadn't been permitted to see anyone beyond a few guards, Hammond and O'Neill.

"What have we here?" Hammond asked. Seeing them one right after another was getting surreal, since none of them came across as quite the same level of asshole hers had been. "I'm guessing that you're not kidnappers since you surrendered yourselves so tamely. Why are you here?"

"It's kind of a long story, sir," she said. "I'm Lt. Samantha Carter from the reality that has been stealing Daniels." She steeled herself against the angry looks, though it was odd to see her own face so angry when all she felt was remorse. O'Neill looked frankly murderous, but Teal'c placed a hand on his shoulder to restrain him.

Hammond raised his eyebrows. "Again, why are you here?"

"Who do you plan to abduct and torture this time?" the other Carter demanded.

"Captain?" Hammond remonstrated and the woman subsided.

Samantha cleared her throat. "The man who was the moving force behind the kidnappings is dead," she said.

"So, your Jack O'Neill is dead, is he?" O'Neill asked. "Good riddance to him!"

"No sir," she said calmly.

"But you just –"

She interrupted the general. "General Hammond, in our reality, was a corrupt, greedy megalomaniac with an eye on the presidency," she said. That ambition, so well hidden in day to day life, had peppered his private notes. "He drugged our O'Neill to the point of insanity. Jack's now in a catatonic state and we're not confident he's going to come out of it." As O'Neill opened his mouth to speak, she raised a hand to forestall him. "And please don't say anything snide. He's still my commanding officer and my friend." O'Neill's eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut.

"All right, Lt. Carter," Hammond said. "Assuming that we take your word on all that, you still haven't said why you're here."

"We're trying to set the Daniels straight, get everyone back where they belong." They looked startled. "Now, your Daniel's Sha're is still alive, is free and they have two children, right?"

"How do you know any of that?" Carter asked. "He would never reveal that information to his captors."

"He didn't," Samantha said. "He's been out of our hands for a month and in the care of a much more normal SGC."

"From whom you stole their DanielJackson," Teal'c said matter-of-factly.

Samantha nodded, suppressing her emotions. "We want to return your Daniel to you –"

"What about the poor man you left here?" Carter asked.

Samantha grimaced. "That is, unfortunately, a problem," she said.

"How so?" Hammond asked suspiciously.

She had to remind herself that this wasn't the bastard she had hated so much. This was a different man who only looked and sounded like him. She took in a deep breath. "We only discovered this yesterday, but apparently our Hammond had the mirror in his reality destroyed."

There was silence, and Samantha felt her shoulders tense further at the heaviness of it. "Are you saying that you can't get him home?" Hammond asked.

Samantha shook her head. "Only that it will be difficult. They have evidently figured out some way to travel between realities without the aid of a mirror." She was about to explain further, but the other Carter interrupted her.

"How is that possible?" she asked.

"I don't know," Samantha admitted. "And I have very little to go on beyond video footage and readings taken six hours after they vanished. All I know for certain is that they returned the Daniel that was left with them to his reality and grabbed our most recent . . . victim . . . from the room we were keeping him in."

"But because they have no mirror . . ."

"We can't get theirs back to them."

"Surely the one they have will tell them he's not the right Daniel," Hammond said. "They sound very capable of working things out for themselves."

Samantha thought she had herself under control, but this hadn't come up in any of the other realities. A tear rolled down her cheek, and they all stared at her like she was crazy. "He can't," she said in a voice choked with emotion. "Before they got him out of our world, our Hammond killed him in a very permanent fashion. They undoubtedly think he's their own Daniel, and since he's dead, they have no reason to look any longer."

"And we have no way of contacting them," Carter said, her eyes narrowing with thought.

"Unless I . . . or you . . . or someone . . . can figure out how to get to them without requiring a mirror on their end, no," Samantha replied. "And the Daniel that's from the reality yours is currently staying in is dead." Despite her efforts, her voice got out of her control and she looked down at the table, willing her emotions away. She didn't have time for them right now.

"What happened?" Carter asked, her voice sounding a little more gentle. "How did he die?"

Maybourne cleared his throat. "I don't know how you folks feel about my counterpart here, he seems to be universally loathed elsewhere."

"He's a bastard and a half here," O'Neill said sweetly. "Why?"

Samantha sniffled and tried to regain her composure. "He's covering for me," she said, and O'Neill looked stunned.

"Are you really crying?" he asked.

She glared up at him. "My base commander drove one of my closest friends to kill another of my closest friends, then into kidnapping other versions of him and beating the living daylights out of them until he found one he thought he could control." She took in a breath. "Then, once we're finally moving on a plan to get him home and Hammond dealt with so this insanity stops, that guy gets rescued by the wrong people and killed. Jack kills Hammond, goes catatonic, and then I find out I can't get one of the Daniels home within this century. Meanwhile, I've been on drugs to make me depressed, passive and malleable for . . ." She shook her head and looked over at Maybourne. "How long?"

He looked uneasily at their hosts and said, "Roughly eighteen months."

She gulped and looked down. "Eighteen months . . ." She looked up into the eyes of the Jack that was in front of her. "How do you think I feel?"

"Pissed off," said the other Samantha Carter, staring at her in shock.

Samantha let out a burst of air that tossed her bangs around and said, "Got it in one."

None of them said anything for several moments, then the door opened. "Where is every . . ." The man that walked in stopped and stared. His words trailed off as he gazed around the room. It was a Daniel. Presumably the Daniel that belonged in G298. He looked back and forth between the two Samantha Carters for a moment, then stepped towards her. "Samantha?" he asked. "Is that you?" She nodded, though she didn't know for certain if he meant her or his own Carter.

"Dr. Jackson!" Hammond exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Someone told me where you guys headed off to, but not why. What happened? Why is Samantha crying?" He shook his head. "Why is she even here?" No one spoke for several moments and he began to look alarmed. "Samantha? What's happened?"

"Daniel, you shouldn't be here," Jack said, putting an arm around his shoulders and starting to lead him out of the room. "I'm sorry, someone should have left a message telling you to wait for us. We didn't –"

Daniel ducked out from under his arm. "Don't try to protect me, Jack. Samantha never hurt me once, she was just as cold as ice, and I've already told you why I think that was." He walked towards her and knelt down in front of her, putting a hand on her knee. "Are you okay? What's happened?"

The tears she'd been suppressing since the more recent Daniel's death came pouring out of her unexpectedly and this Daniel put his arms around her, shifting up onto the bench beside her. He didn't speak, which was just as well because she couldn't have handled any meaningless platitudes. She could hear Maybourne speaking to the others, but it took her what seemed like forever to regain her control.

Finally, she stopped crying and he handed her a couple of tissues out of a pocket pack and said, "Okay, now can you tell me what happened?"

She poured the whole story out to him, and he stared at her for a moment. She waited for his anger at their being unable to send him home. She waited for the fury and the devastation, and she could tell that the others were waiting as well.

He shrugged and reached up to wipe away a tear had squeezed out as she talked. "Don't worry, Samantha, it will be all right. He'll tell them he's not me, and they'll start looking again."

She shook her head. "He can't, Daniel. Don't you understand? Hammond killed him. His heart was turned into so much ground round!"

"I know that, Samantha, but they'll just pop him into the sarcophagus, and he'll be good as new. That was Thursday?" She nodded dumbly. "By now he's even out of sedation and over the withdrawals, or almost at any rate."

No one spoke. No one even moved. If someone had thought to drop a pin, they would all have been able to hear it hit. Apparently no one in this reality knew about the sarc, or one of them would have been sure to mention it. As the silence dragged on, she found her voice. "You have a sarcophagus?"

"Yeah, sure," he said casually. "So don't worry, he'll be telling them all about how he's the wrong Daniel. It's only a matter of time till they figure out how to send him home and find me. In fact, if the Daniel from here is in his reality now, you should take me there. It will save a step for them."

"You don't even know those people," Jack objected.

Daniel turned towards him. "She said they're a pretty normal SGC."

"And you believe her?" Jack asked incredulously.

Daniel squeezed her shoulders. "I trust her, Jack. She was the one decent person I met while I was there. Jack was loony, and I can see what you're talking about in his behavior, Samantha, thinking back on it. Hammond was always the one who freaked me out the most, really. Jack was scary, but malice radiated from Hammond's pores."

"Well, he's dead now," she said. "And Kinsey's stepped down as president. Our whole reality is getting better."

"That's great." He stood up and walked over to Hammond and the others. "I think we need to talk for a little while. Can you send them some water or something, and maybe some kind of snack?"

"Of course," Hammond said, looking bemused. He glanced over at Samantha. "Is there anything you need?"

"No, sir, I'm fine. I don't need anything."

They all left, Daniel dragging the lingering Teal'c and Jack out of the room. Samantha put her head down in her hands. "I didn't think I'd react like that," she said.

"It's all right," Maybourne said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I don't think anybody thinks the worse of you for it."

"I came across as a hysterical idiot."

"You came across as a woman who's been pushed further than anyone should be. You've been through hell, Samantha."

"I've been through hell?" she exclaimed. "Did you see that? Daniel, who got beaten up and mangled while I did nothing about it but bring ice bags when I could get there, and he was trying to comfort _me_! Those men are unbelievable. They certainly, all of them, deserve better than they've gotten from us."

"What about the sarcophagus?" Maybourne asked. "It sounds like –"

"I'm not letting myself think about that," she said sharply. "I don't think I could cope if I let myself believe in it and something went wrong." She shook her head. "I have way too many things I can't think about right now. You didn't get to watch Daniel die." He opened his mouth, but she shook her head. "I know you've seen the video, but I saw it knowing that it was happening as I watched. His eyes . . . when he realized that he was dead . . . you didn't know him. You didn't spend hours trying to help him hold together because Hammond had a conniption if he let his emotions show. I want him to be alive . . . you don't know how much . . . but if I let myself believe it and he's not – I'll . . . I don't know what I'll do."

"Samantha, calm down," he said. "Just don't think too hard about it."

She took a deep breath, all too aware that she was closing on hysteria. "It's really hard not to, and it feels way too much like all the not thinking I did over the past eighteen months." Rage surged through her suddenly. "I wish that bastard was alive again so I could kill him!"

"Samantha!" Maybourne exclaimed, glancing uneasily at their guards and the cameras.

"He betrayed our trust, sir!" she said. "He coldly took our lives and made them serve his ends, even the lives of Daniels that never had the slightest connection to him, who just had the misfortune to be accessible to his team of kidnappers. He took from those Daniels every sense of security they could have by using a man that they would trust and believe in as their kidnapper. He jockeyed around with Jack's . . . what does Fraiser call it? His cocktail? He played around with Jack's mind until he didn't know if he was coming or going! And the net result is that no one in the universe trusts us, and we're no closer to defeating the Goa'uld than when we started."

"He should be cut into strips, sun-dried and fed to an Unas," Daniel said, coming back in with the others.

"That's what she said," Samantha exclaimed. "Unas hormones. There were Unas hormones in the stuff they were giving Jack, to make him more aggressive and possessive."

O'Neill's eyes widened and his face twisted into an expression of disgust. "Ick!" he said. "I mean . . . ick!" He shook his head, looking as if he was trying to think of something else to say. "Well, he's still an asshole!"

Samantha sighed. "Yes. But he's getting better . . . or he was."

"You don't get better from being an asshole!" O'Neill declared.

"He was learning, trying to –"

"I mean, from the sound of what you said, he was beating up on your Daniel well before they started drugging him."

Samantha grimaced. "Yes, but . . . as I understand it he was abused as a child."

"That's no excuse!"

"No, it's not," Daniel said. "But his Daniel had as much responsibility as he did to keep that relationship healthy."

O'Neill stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?! Horseshit!"

There commenced an argument the likes of which Samantha had never seen. She stared, open-mouthed and tense at the two of them. The Carter who belonged here edged around the pair of them over to Samantha's side. "Didn't your Daniel and Jack fight like this?" she asked.

"No," she said. "Never. Daniel would argue with just about anyone, but not Jack. They disagreed, but it was always quiet, private. When Jack said something Daniel objected to, his eyes would . . . it's hard to describe. He'd just get this look . . . this sort of pathetic, unhappy look . . ." She shrugged. "Anyway, Jack would realize that something was bugging him, and he'd take Daniel aside and they'd talk. Then Jack would come back and his opinion would have changed."

Carter blinked and glanced at the blazing argument going on two feet from them. "This is par for the course for my guys, though Sha're usually wades in at some point and makes them settle down." Carter bit her lip. "Or she did, when things were normal. Have you seen our Daniel?"

Samantha shook her head. "I haven't, not since they took him away," she said. "He . . . he was very defiant."

"Was he?" Carter asked, seeming suddenly very tense.

Samantha nodded. "And Jack . . . I think he was getting higher doses of drugs at that point, and . . . it wasn't good."

"Boys," Hammond said, raising his voice. O'Neill and Daniel both fell silent, looking mildly abashed. "I don't think we're here to discuss the shortcomings of a man who is unwell in another reality. We're here to discuss plans for . . ." He shook his head and looked at Daniel. "Son, are you sure? I'm none too happy about the notion of sending you out without knowing for certain what you might be getting yourself into."

"I'm sure I'll be –"

"No," O'Neill said suddenly. "He's not going alone. I absolutely refuse."

"What, you think there's a threat so you'd like to give them a hostage?" Daniel rolled his eyes. "You're overprotective, Jack. Incredibly overprotective."

"Somebody's got to be, since you're so damned willing to hand yourself over!" Jack growled. "Maybe I'm compensating for the other one."

Samantha shook her head. "Actually, no, he was very overprotective. That's actually what . . . started . . . um . . ." She fell silent under the collective stares.

"Are you saying your Jack hit your Daniel because he got hurt?"

"Yes," Samantha said.

"That doesn't make a lot of sense!"

"I know!" she snapped back.

Maybourne glared. "She got demoted trying to stop it from happening," he said angrily to Jack. "You really ought to stop thumping her for it."

Samantha gave him an irritated look. "He's not thumping me!" she said.

"He is. He keeps yelling at you as if you're somehow responsible."

"Fine, then I'll stop him myself!"

Maybourne stared at her, then sat down. "I'll just stay over here and be despised."

Samantha grimaced and put a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, sir," she murmured. Then she turned back to O'Neill. "Look, my Jack has nothing to do with any of this right now. He's in a small padded room with a couple of shrinks who are trying to figure out how to get him back from Never Never Land. Could we not talk about him?"

O'Neill blinked and muttered something that sounded like an apology. Hammond stepped forward. "Quite right, lieutenant."

She flinched slightly and then gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, every time my Hammond said something like that to me lately it made me want to . . ." She shook her head. "This is a mess. All I know is that your Daniel is in another reality where he's being cared for well, right, sir?" Maybourne nodded. "But that he has twin children whose second birthday he's missed, and he's been gone from here about two months."

The door opened and Samantha was ready to cry at the interruption. Then she saw who it was and sat down very suddenly. It was a beautiful dark-haired woman with an olive complexion. She was wearing a blue dress with a small floral print, and her hair was clipped back away from her face. It was Sha're, and her eyes searched the room quickly before settling on her face. "You have seen my Daniel, have you not?" she said urgently.

"Not for a month," Samantha said, trying to banish the image of the last time she'd seen him.

"I saw him three days ago," Maybourne said, and Sha're turned to him instantly.

"How is he?"

"Impatient," Maybourne said, sounding a little exasperated.

Sha're looked immeasurably relieved, and Jack closed his eyes. He walked forward and put his arm around Sha're's shoulders, and she reached up to squeeze his hand. Teal'c actually smiled and Samantha grinned. "That's good to hear," Hammond said.

"It is," Sha're said. "What must we do to bring him home?"

"Well, I'm going to go trade places with him," Daniel said.

"No!" she exclaimed. "We do not trade in people!"

"It's not like that, Sha're," Daniel said. "It's . . . I couldn't stay here once he's back."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't go home, and . . . and when he's back I'll be very happy for you and for everyone here, but . . . seeing you together, I'll die inside."

She looked at him with concern in her eyes and raised her hand to his cheek. "I believe I understand, but I will not permit you to go if you will not be safe."

"He will be," Samantha said. "The reality your Daniel is in is . . . well, it's what I'm beginning to realize is a pretty normal reality. Mine seems to be rather . . . odd."

Sha're turned towards Samantha and gazed measuringly at her. "You are not well," she said. "You need more rest."

Samantha shrugged. "I'm just about the only one who can clean up this mess," she said. "We have to go to the reality where your Daniel is and get him still . . ." She closed her eyes. "How much more time do we have, sir?" she asked Maybourne.

"Makepeace will be firing up the mirror in a little over ten minutes," he said.

"So, how can we resolve this?" Samantha asked.

No one spoke for a moment, then Sha're said, "I will return with you and accompany you to this other reality. If I am satisfied –"

"Hell no!" Jack yelled. He would have said more, but Sha're turned to him.

"Jonathon!" she said reprovingly.

He flushed and glared down at her. "Daniel would flay me alive if I let you go off like that."

"As will I if you attempt to interfere."

"Fine, then I'll go with you. I'm damn well not letting you go off alone."

"Isn't anyone going to consult me?" Hammond asked softly. Samantha stiffened at his tone, but both Sha're and O'Neill just looked sheepish.

"Of course, General Hammond, I would not dream of taking action without your permission," Sha're said. "But if you do not give me permission, we will have words."

"I believe that I should accompany Sha're," Teal'c said. Everyone started slightly at the sound from that direction. He had barely spoken since Samantha had arrived. "I am the best possible choice."

Samantha looked around at all of them. "There is one little problem that I don't think you're taking into consideration." Teal'c raised an eyebrow and Sha're's back straightened slightly. "I don't have permission to bring any of you back through the mirror besides Daniel." Sha're and O'Neill began speaking at the same time, and Teal'c looked affronted. Hammond silenced them, and Samantha nodded appreciatively at him. "I do have a suggestion, however. You folks hammer out what you'd find acceptable in terms of a way to handle this, and I'll go to the reality where your Daniel is and see how they feel about all of this. We were leaving them for last, so they don't really know what's going on."

"Very well," Hammond said. "Let's get you back to the mirror, then, so that you can go. When would you be returning?"

"Tomorrow, I think," Samantha said. "I suspect that's how long it will take to get everything hammered out on our end and in the other reality."

"We'll look forward to seeing you."


	35. Chapter 35

_**Monday, May 10  
** _ **Reality L583**

Jack glared at Hammond through the little hole in the door. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded. Upon his arrival at the SGC this morning, he'd been seized by several strong and overly armed sergeants – not airmen, not lieutenants, no one he could possibly bluff – and taken to the detention cells.

Lunch had been brought to him at midday, but he'd seen no one else until now. "Colonel O'Neill," Hammond said soberly, "something has arisen that leads me to suspect that you may not be you. To be safe, we have to verify your identity. Since this may take several days, I have ordered you confined to this cell."

"That's ridiculous!" Jack exclaimed. He'd arrived about an hour earlier than anyone would normally expect him so that he could make sure everything was in order and start unloading his locker. Instead, before he could even reach the locker room, he'd been imprisoned. "You know damned well that I'm me, sir!"

Hammond shook his head. "I certainly hope you are," he said. "However, we can't be too careful after what's been happening." With that he turned and left. Jack stared after him, realizing abruptly that he really shouldn't have given the general advance warning of his intentions. He walked over and sat down on the bunk with a rustling of springs. All he wanted to do right now was buy a whole lot of beer and find a nice spot by a lake in Minnesota and get very very drunk while not catching fish. And, hopefully, not thinking about Daniel. The general was not cooperating.

He sat back against the wall and closed his eyes, not thinking about much of anything until the door opened. He looked up, expecting to see Fraiser arriving to go through some kind of charade of 'verifying his identity.' Instead, he saw Hammond looking serious and earnest. "We've verified your identity," he said. "Come on."

Jack followed him, perplexed. "What did you do?" he asked.

"We've had a visit," Hammond said. "Maybourne is here."

Jack shrugged. "So he's going to take that Daniel back home? What do you need me for?"

"Well, I thought you might want to talk to Lt. Carter, if nothing else."

Jack looked up. Lt. Carter was . . . His lips tightened. "Yes, I think I'd like to talk to her."

When they arrived at the room they'd been using as a meeting space, the two Carters were talking quietly while Maybourne talked to Daniel and Teal'c stood as if on guard over the archeologist.

Daniel looked up and smiled, but there was an apologetic wariness about the expression that made Jack feel like a heel. He walked over and smiled down at the other man. "So, you're going home?" he said, and Daniel's smile broadened with relief.

"It may take some doing, but it seems everything's pretty normal back home," Daniel said. "Knowing that makes it a little easier to wait."

Jack blinked and turned to Maybourne, who shrugged and deferred to the lowest ranking person present, Lt. Samantha Carter. Both Carters looked up at him as he turned towards them, and he was struck by the intense difference between the two women. Lt. Carter was pale and had dark smudges under her eyes, and there were many more lines in her face, and where his Carter's lines were mostly from laughter, the lieutenant's were lines of worry and stress.

"I take it you've been told who I am," she asked. He nodded wordlessly. Somehow all the nasty things he'd thought of to say weren't coming easily to his lips in the face of this woman who looked as if she'd been drug through hell and back. "I . . . I can't promise anything, but the Daniel in . . ." She paused, looking baffled, then she said, "Okay, we numbered the realities. We're pretty sure that the reality that took your Daniel is G298. The Daniel that belongs there is currently in his reality," she went on, pointing at the man in the wheelchair. "H382. That . . . that doesn't really help."

"What's your point?" his Carter asked. He raised an eyebrow and Carter elaborated. "She said she didn't want to have to tell it twice, so she insisted we get you."

"We have reason to believe that your Daniel may be alive, but we can't get to him," Lt. Carter blurted.

Jack stared at her in shock. "Alive? Daniel's alive?"

"He _might_ be alive," she said firmly. "I have no proof. You see, the Daniel who's in H382 right now says that the minute they got him home, they'd have popped him into their sarcophagus."

"So what's the trouble with getting to him?" Hammond asked.

Lt. Carter shifted uneasily, looking up at the general. "Our General Hammond had the mirror in that reality destroyed, but it seems that my counterpart in that reality has figured out a way to make travel between realities possible without the mirror."

"Ahh!" Captain Carter flushed as they all turned towards her. Jack was still having trouble getting the word 'sarcophagus' through his brain. "I just wondered, is all. Maybourne said that the mirror wasn't on base, so, assuming that was true, I couldn't figure out how the other SG-1 had gotten there, but if they can travel without the mirror, that would explain it."

"I see." Hammond said. "And that means . . ."

"It means that we can't go to them, we have to wait for them to come to us," Lt. Carter said. "And if they're as upset with my reality as all the rest of you are, they aren't likely to come to us. They're much more likely to try and search out this reality to get your Daniel home to you. For one thing, they don't know that Hammond's dead, and there's no way we can tell them."

"Sarcophagus?" Jack said, finally able to articulate. "They have a sarcophagus?"

Lt. Carter turned to him. "That's what Daniel . . . that Daniel . . . that's what he said. But he hasn't been home for three months, so there's no knowing what could have happened between then and now."

"Don't think so negatively," Daniel said. "I'm sure they still have it. They'll bring him back to life, and everything will be great."

Lt. Carter smiled at Daniel sadly. "I'm not used to thinking positively," she said.

"I know," he said. "You've had a hellish time. You really had no choices at all, did you?"

"It's not any excuse," she said. "However, we do have something of a proposal. The Daniel in the other reality, the one who belongs where your Daniel is, wants to come here so that . . ." She was running out of ways to express the Danielness of people.

"Daddy Daniel," Jack suggested helpfully.

"That just sounds weird," Daniel said.

"It's accurate," Jack replied. "You're a daddy and you're Daniel. Daddy Daniel."

"It still sounds just wrong," Daniel protested.

"Would you rather be called something else?" Jack asked in exasperation. "I'm open to suggestions."

Daniel rolled his eyes and turned to Lt. Carter. "So you want us to switch places."

"That's what the other Daniel wants," she said with precision. "Your friends and family aren't so sure they . . . well, much as they want you back . . ."

"They don't trust us," Jack finished for her.

She nodded. "They don't want to send him into a potentially bad situation."

"Well, here's a thought," Daniel said. "I can go home and tell them and everything will be fine."

"I do not think so," Teal'c said firmly, and Hammond nodded.

"I have to agree. I don't think it's the case, but this could all be an elaborate ruse for you folks to get hold of a Daniel again."

Jack expected Lt. Carter to protest, but she just sighed. "I can't say we've done anything to earn anybody's trust. So the question is, would you be willing to host a different Daniel? He doesn't seem to want to stay in the other reality once . . . once things get back to normal."

"I can understand that," Daniel said. "It would be hard for him to see us reunited when he's still not able to go home."

Lt. Carter nodded and, twisting her hands uncomfortably, said, "And I get the feeling he would be uncomfortable seeing you and your Sha're together. I'm afraid that yours is a very unusual situation. Most Sha'res that we've heard about are either dead or inhabited by a Goa'uld."

"And his?"

"Is dead, or so he told me when we talked once while he was . . ." Her eyes clouded. "I am sorry for all the harm my reality has done, to you and to all the others."

"You did everything you could to help," Daniel said. "You have nothing to feel guilty for."

She shook her head. "It's sweet of you to say that, but –"

"It's not your fault, Samantha," Maybourne said suddenly. "Getting yourself imprisoned or killed would not have stopped what was happening. You didn't have the back up to stand on your own, and you did what you could."

Jack shrugged. "Regardless, yes, we will gladly host the other Daniel, right, sir?" he asked turning to Hammond, who nodded. "So, how do we work out how to make the transfer? Somehow I don't think there's any neutral ground to be had."

She grimaced. "I don't know. I'm going to have to talk to Colonel Makepeace and see what he's willing for me to do. They've suggested sending Sha're and O'Neill here to check things out to see if they're suitable."

"They have?" Daniel said, looking incensed. "Who suggested sending Sha're in where they're not sure they trust people?"

"Um . . . Sha're," Lt. Carter said.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Figures."

"Well, I'm not about to let him go unless we're sure it's safe, but I certainly want him to go home if he can." He shook his head. "A sarcophagus?"

"Yes, Colonel O'Neill, a sarcophagus," snapped Lt. Carter.

"So what else is going on where you're from?" Jack asked.

Lt. Carter blinked at him, looking startled. "A lot," she said. "In fact, I need to get back. We'll discuss things with Makepeace and get everything worked out."

Their Carter led them back to the mirror, and Jack sat down. "Daniel could be alive," he said.

"Yes," Hammond said. "Jack, can I trust you not to pull anything stupid?"

"Define stupid, sir," Jack said warily.

"Resignation," Hammond said, and Jack grimaced. "Suicide."

"Hell no!" Jack exclaimed. Hammond raised an eyebrow. "Um . . . hell no, sir."

"I don't believe you're likely to attempt suicide directly, Jack. I do worry that you might do it by neglect." He walked over and put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stay on base for the next few days. Can you do that?"

"You think I'm leaving?!" Jack exclaimed. "I can't let this guy go without saying good bye," he said, pointing at Daniel, who smiled. "And I sure as hell am not going anywhere if our Daniel might be alive out there, needing me."

"I'm very glad to hear that," Hammond said, smiling. "There are a few things that you need to get done, though, so you might want to get to work."

Jack nodded and gave Teal'c and Daniel a sidelong look as he headed out of the lab. Their Daniel had a good chance of being alive. The very thought energized him.

He hoped it was true, because if it wasn't . . . He shook his head and headed to his office.

* * *

**Reality G298**

Daniel was utterly humiliated. As if it wasn't bad enough that he'd wept for what seemed like hours on Jack's chest in Hammond's office, the two men weren't even his Jack and Hammond. All his dignity, all his composure, all his appearance of ordinary sanity, went completely out the window.

When he'd eventually cried himself out, they'd put him to bed in a VIP room with Teal'c on hand to keep an eye on him. Daniel had slept fretfully for hours, and when he'd finally fallen into a real sleep, he'd slept very heavily and woken late. Someone had left a tray with fruit and crackers and some water in an insulated carafe.

Having finished a very light breakfast, Daniel sat back and looked at Teal'c who sat in the corner, deep in kelnoreem. He looked so very much like his own Teal'c. This looked exactly like a VIP room in his own reality, but it wasn't. He was still so far away from home, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Tears were rising to the surface again, and despite his best efforts, there was nothing he could do to stop them. He felt like an idiot as he snatched up the tissue box and took it back to the bed with him. There were books in here, novels, nothing even vaguely work-oriented. He picked one up and opened it, trying to distract himself from his situation without notable success.

"Are you well, DanielJackson?"

Daniel jumped, shifting away from the looming presence automatically before he realized that it posed no threat. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'm fine, Teal'c, thanks."

"You do not seem fine," the Jaffa said. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know. No. Nothing. I'm fine."

Teal'c seemed to take this at face value, but he reached out and squeezed Daniel's shoulder gently. Daniel smiled at him. "Dr. Fraiser sent a message this morning saying that she would like to see you when you awakened."

"I need a shower," Daniel said.

"I am certain that Dr. Fraiser can wait," Teal'c said.

Daniel nodded and got up. "I'll be a few minutes."

"There is no hurry," Teal'c replied.

Daniel went back into the bathroom and climbed into the shower, feeling very pleased that he didn't have a cast that he had to work into a protective contraption before he could step under the steaming hot spray. He cleaned himself off quickly, not wanting to keep either Teal'c or Fraiser waiting. It was awkward . . . this knowing people but not knowing them. He'd gotten used to Samantha and the less than stable Jack, but here he was again, starting over.

He dried off and pulled on a robe. When he went out into the bedroom again, Teal'c was talking to Jack who had evidently come in while Daniel was showering. He stopped in the doorway, contemplating an inconspicuous trip across the room to . . . and then he realized that he had no idea if there were even clothes in the room beyond the boxers he'd worn to bed.

Jack turned while he was dithering. "Daniel, how ya feeling?" he asked. Daniel's gut twisted unexpectedly as a complex set of emotions rushed over him. He grit his teeth and tried to smile. Jack's own smile faltered. "What's up?" he asked worriedly.

"Nothing," Daniel said.

"It's not nothing."

"It is."

"Isn't."

"Is."

"Isn't. Daniel, you don't turn pale over nothing. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing you can do anything about," Daniel said. "There's no point in talking about it."

Jack's expression grew both obstinate and exasperated. "How do I know I can't help if you don't tell me what the problem is?"

"You could take my word for it," Daniel suggested.

Jack's expression didn't change. "How do you know I can't help? You don't know me."

"I know what the problem is, and there's nothing you can do to solve it," Daniel said, getting irritated. Here he was, standing in a terry bathrobe with his hair dripping on his shoulders, and Jack was arguing with him. It was so damned familiar yet so terribly wrong.

"See, there, you're doing it again," Jack said. "Daniel, let me try to help."

Tears began to collect in Daniel's eyes again and he fought them. "Can you become my Jack right now?" he asked. The other man's eyes widened and he looked upset. "Can you stop my stomach from twisting up because you look like the nutcase who's been making my life a tightrope walk for the past month and more?"

Jack's expression cleared up immediately. "Now that one I can solve."

"How?"

"With a judicious application of hot chocolate," Jack said, crossing his arms with a confident grin.

Daniel blinked. "That could work," he said, nodding slowly. "Once, at any rate. But –"

"Fine, then for the second application we'll add marshmallows."

Tears and laughter threatened to overwhelm him together. He shook his head, striving to control them both, because if one let loose, so would the other. Jack rushed across to put an arm around his shoulders. "It will be all right, Daniel. Carter's working hard on the solution to your problem."

"Is someone making sure she gets enough rest?" Daniel asked. "And enough food?"

"I look in on her periodically during the day," Teal'c said from the doorway. "In fact, I should check on her now. O'Neill, Fraiser wishes to see DanielJackson when he is ready."

"No problem," Jack said.

"I will see you later, DanielJackson," Teal'c said, bowing slightly before he left the room.

The interchange had given Daniel enough time to regain control of his emotions. "So, is there any clothing for me to put on, or do I get to traipse around the base in this?"

"Much as some of the ladies might like that," Jack said, waggling his eyebrows, "I think it's probably a bad idea." Daniel raised an eyebrow at the crack, but he didn't say anything. "No, I brought you some of my Daniel's clothes, civvies, actually, because I thought you might prefer them under the circumstances." He led Daniel over to the chest of drawers and Daniel gratefully pulled out some slacks and a polo shirt. Jack left the room while he got changed, which seemed odd to Daniel until he recalled the kiss.

In stockinged feet, he pushed the door open again and said, "Come on back in." Then he padded over to a chair and sat down to pull some shoes on. Shoes. Apart from during his two trips outside, he hadn't worn shoes in a month.

"You feeling a bit more comfortable?" Jack asked.

Daniel nodded. "You'd be amazed how lovely it is to have something as simple as shoes again," he said.

Jack grinned. "Oh, I don't know about amazed . . ." he said. "But let's get you down to Fraiser."

The looks this time as they headed through the halls were sympathetic and concerned, directed towards both of them. From this, Daniel deduced that his true identity had been made known to the rest of the base already. He wondered how many of the people at home knew he had been replaced by a ringer. Was the other fellow working, doing the things that only a premier linguist could do? Daniel hoped so. He had direct evidence of the other man's competence, after all.

As they headed for the infirmary, Daniel marveled at the incredible similarities between this base and his own. He hadn't really gotten a chance to compare the other two he'd been to. The first one had been so quick, and the second one . . .

He shook his head. In both, his movements had been sharply controlled, but here he was walking the halls pretty freely, seeing people and interacting with them to some degree. It gave him the opportunity to see things he hadn't been able to in either of the previous realities. There was a records room near the infirmary that he believed was a storeroom for medical supplies back home, but by and large, things seemed pretty identical.

Fraiser greeted them within minutes of their arrival and whisked them immediately into the privacy of her office. She had a file laid out and ready on her desk, and once she'd gotten them seated comfortably, she sat down herself. "D . . . Dr. Jackson, do you mind if I call you Daniel?" she said. "I mean, we've never met, but it would be . . . I don't know . . . maybe . . ."

"Daniel is fine," he said, smiling. "May I call you Janet?"

"No one asked me what they should call me," Jack said, sounding vaguely dismayed.

Daniel looked at him and said, "Very well, Colonel O'Neill, what would you like me to call you?"

"Jack's fine," he said, his lips twitching.

Fraiser gave the colonel a half-irritated, half-amused look, then said, "Well, since that's settled, maybe we can get down to business."

"And that would be?" Daniel asked.

"I need to get some medical records together for you. Your Dr. Fraiser will expect them."

Daniel blinked. "Yes, I suppose she would. But . . ." He shrugged. "What do you want from me?"

"If it's too painful for you to talk about, I won't press you, but could you give me some details regarding your physical condition before the . . . before . . ."

"Before the bomb went off?" Daniel asked.

She nodded. "When you say bomb, by the way, what exactly do you mean?"

"I don't really know," Daniel said. "I . . ." He grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. He looked down at his hands. "When Hammond decided that I was going to work out, he determined that he needed a way to control me, so he had Warner put a 'tiny explosive device' near my heart. They put drugs in my coffee to knock me out, so I didn't know anything had happened till I woke up with an IV and an officious nurse. All Hammond told me was that it was a bomb and that it was controlled by a remote that was something like a GDO, but extremely powerful. He told me that he could set the bomb off from halfway across a planet."

"Well, isn't that special," Jack said.

"I thought so," Daniel replied. "Apart from that, I had a number of bruises that Coburn gave me on Hammond's orders, and the broken arm. Nothing much else, I don't think, though, right at the end, I suspected that Hammond might have started giving me drugs like he does all the others."

Fraiser was writing swiftly. "Did any other injuries occur while you were there?"

"A few other bruises, nothing serious," Daniel said. "I had a bout of the stomach flu. That was fun."

"I'd imagine," Fraiser said. "All right. I'd like to give you an x-ray. One of the things we've learned about the sarcophagus is that it can accidentally cause serious side effects, quite aside from the addictive nature of it, and its tendency to cause personality disorders and psychosis."

"Really?" Daniel asked. "As if that wasn't enough."

She nodded. "If a bone is shattered or crushed, or shrapnel is present in the body, the flesh heals around the shards and new bone forms in place of the old. Thus, on occasion, those shards can work their way into life threatening locations. Presumably the Goa'uld don't have a problem because the symbiote deals with illness and injury as a matter of course. However, we nearly lost a couple of men early on because we didn't realize that."

"Interesting," Daniel said, glancing down at his chest. "So, an x-ray. Sure. No problem."

"Good."

For all the low key way she'd presented the issue, she was clearly fairly worried. Daniel was under an x-ray machine in no time flat with a heavy lead flap arranged across the irrelevant portions of his body. She took a few films and then sent him to get dressed again. Jack seemed a little anxious, but Daniel didn't know how to take that.

They sat in her office again, waiting for her to come back. "So, what's wrong?" Daniel asked. "You look like . . . I don't know. You just don't look real happy."

Jack shrugged. "Fraiser's not an alarmist," he said. "She seems pretty concerned, so I'm wondering what she's thinking."

Daniel nodded, and they both fell silent again, waiting.

She came in and shut the door behind her. In her hand she held one of those huge file folders that they kept developed x-rays in. "All right," she said. "We have something of a problem, Daniel. I need to show you what I've found and then we need to discuss your options."

"What's the problem?" Daniel asked. She pulled out a film and stuck it into the light box above her desk, flipping the switch to illuminate the image. Daniel looked up and saw what was presumably his own ribs. There were a scattering of random objects that showed up as impenetrable, all in the general vicinity of his heart. "What are all those?" he asked curiously, his mind shying away from examining the possibilities too closely.

"Bomb fragments," she said and Daniel stiffened. There were an awful lot of them, and some of them seemed pretty big. "I'm afraid there are too many of them to ignore," she went on. "If they were fewer or smaller we might be able to just monitor the situation, but . . ."

"What are you suggesting?" Daniel asked, a pit developing in his gut.

She grimaced. "I think we're going to have to do surgery to remove them, just to be on the safe side."

He shook his head. "No." It was a gut level reaction. He didn't want anyone to anesthetize him, he didn't want to be that far out of control. "No."

Both Jack and Janet looked startled by the vehemence of his response. Janet shifted uneasily and gave him a somber look. "Daniel, this isn't really an option. It –"

"What happened to discussing my options?" Daniel asked.

She glared at him. "Okay, your options are simple. You have surgery to remove the pieces of metal from the vicinity of your heart, or you risk sudden death."

Daniel closed his eyes. "I don't want to be anesthetized," he said.

"I can't do this surgery with you awake," she replied.

"I know. So that's that." He glanced at the clock. "It looks like it's lunchtime, so I'll just –"

He'd started to rise as he spoke, but she cut him off. "Sit down!" she said sharply.

He settled back and crossed his arms, his right fingers automatically seeking the scar that had been left by Warner's surgery. They didn't find it, which he found a little startling.

"Say yes, Daniel," Jack said, his voice low and persuasive.

"I don't think you understand," Daniel said. "The last time someone cut into me, they put a murder weapon inside me to make it easier to kill me from a distance. I don't . . . I don't know you. It's nothing personal, but I don't . . . I don't think I can deal with this."

"Well, you're going to have to find a way," Janet said firmly. "I'm not going to sit by while you ignore something this serious."

Daniel stood up. "I need to . . . I need . . ." He shook his head. "Excuse me." He left the room quickly and headed into the only place he could count on not being followed. He shut the bathroom door behind him and locked it, then leaned against it, trying to control the shaking that had come over him. She was right. Rationally, he knew she was right, but he couldn't bring himself to consent.

They left him alone for no more than five minutes. Then there was a light tapping on the bathroom door. "Daniel? You okay in there?" Jack asked.

Daniel forced his voice to calm and said, "Fine. Give me a couple minutes, okay?"

"Sure."

He walked over to the sink and started to wash his hands, but then he saw his reflection in the mirror. Tears were running down his cheeks and he hadn't even noticed it. Part of him just wanted to curl up in a ball and pretend that the rest of the world didn't exist, and part of him wanted to start yelling at people to stop trying to run his life.

He washed his face, hoping that Jack wouldn't notice the signs. Then he went and opened the door. "I really do want lunch," he said. What he really wanted was to get out of the infirmary to think for awhile.

"Sure. We'll get lunch," Jack said.

Their feet headed towards the commissary, but Daniel held back as he realized where they were going. "Not in public," he said. "I . . . things are too close to the surface."

Jack blinked and said, "Sure, Daniel. Let's go back to your room and I'll get someone to bring us lunch."

They headed back to the VIP room and Daniel sat down on the bed, pulling his knees to his chest. "I don't suppose I could have some time alone," he asked.

"I'm not sure how good an idea that would be," Jack said. "I mean, haven't you been alone a lot over the last month?"

"Yeah," Daniel sighed. "But not really. I was always on someone's video monitor. I decided early on not to worry about whether the bathroom was monitored, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was."

"That's pretty creepy," Jack said, sitting down.

"Very," Daniel said. "But I'm reasonably certain that you're not doing that here, or if you are, it isn't so you can make sure I'm spending all of my time living up to a greedy son of a bitch's expectations. If you are, it's more likely you just want to make sure I don't do something stupid, like slit my wrists or something."

Jack's eyes widened, and his mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds. Finally, his breath and his vocal chords connected again. "You weren't . . . thinking about that . . . were you?"

Daniel blinked at him. "No," he said, startled.

The other man's entire body radiated his relief. "Oh . . . good . . . God! Don't _do_ that!"

Daniel shook his head. "Death might have seemed an attractive way out in the other reality, but not here. And not even there really. If I'd died, they'd just have . . ." He clamped his jaws shut, and closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears from pouring down his cheeks. They probably were. Hammond had surely sent someone out by now to find a new Daniel. Probably not Jack, and heaven only knew what had happened to Samantha by this point. Still, Hammond was persuaded that he needed a Daniel Jackson, and Daniel sincerely doubted he'd let much stand in the way of that goal.

"We can't send you back," Jack said. "It would be . . . I can't think of a word strong enough to describe what a bad idea it would be."

Daniel shook his head and rested his forehead against his knees. He was resigned to the idea that he wasn't going to be able to persuade them to send him back, but he hated not knowing what was going on back there.

How was Samantha coping with his death? How were Jack and Sam and Teal'c coping with it? He swallowed more tears. This was getting ridiculous. He had to stop leaking at the drop of a pin.

This reality's Jack was suddenly beside him with an arm around his shoulders. "Think of it this way, can you imagine what your Jack would do to me if I let you go back there after what's already happened, no matter what your reasons were?"

Daniel shrugged. "It's an odd image, one Jack beating the living daylights out of another. The question is, who'd win?"

"He would, because I'd feel so damned guilty I wouldn't be able to defend myself properly. And I probably wouldn't have recovered yet from what my Danny had done to me for it. And that leaves Sam, Teal'c and Fraiser completely out of it, which it isn't wise to do."

Daniel chuckled. "I guess not. I just . . . out of six kidnapped Daniels, I was the only one who came even close to fitting in there. The odds that they'll get another who'll adjust the way I did aren't good."

"It's not your problem, Daniel. It never was your problem."

He looked at the colonel wryly. "Okay, let me turn your argument back at you. Would your Daniel be able to accept that it wasn't his problem?"

"No." Jack sounded very irritated by this fact, and Daniel snorted. "But I wouldn't put up with any guff from him either, not about going back . . . or about this surgery thing."

"I don't want to talk about that," Daniel said.

"I know." Jack shrugged. "Unfortunately, I do."

Bitterness rose in Daniel's throat like bile. "And I have nowhere to go to avoid you, do I?"

Jack gazed at him for a long moment, then sighed. "So, answer me this, Daniel. With everything you've been through, and the way you're feeling right now, is there anywhere in your reality where you could go to avoid your Jack?" Daniel pursed his lips, glaring at his hands. "And if you say yes, I'm going to beat him up."

Daniel shook his head. "No, there isn't," he said honestly. "But we don't have the same kind of relationship you and your Daniel have. Not remotely."

"Not sure how that's relevant," Jack said. "I mean, we didn't start out as lovers, and the relationship hasn't changed all that much. We just added kissing . . . and a few other things."

The images called up by that casual comment made Daniel blink uncomfortably. There were definitely things he didn't need to know about. "You guys don't talk about stuff?" he asked after a moment. "I mean, like, pasts and stuff?"

Jack shrugged. "Not if we can help it," he said frankly. "Carter says we're both emotionally constipated. I told her that was an image I really didn't need, but . . . you know . . . don't you?"

"Actually, I do." Daniel sat up a little straighter. "So, the gay thing, no problem here?"

"No," Jack said. "The other Daniel asked the same thing. What's it like where you're from?"

"Well, I might be able to get away with it, note that's a 'might,' but Jack would never be able to. If anyone found out it would be a dishonorable discharge. They might keep me around simply because I'm good at the whole language and culture thing, but a lot of people would be seriously uncomfortable around me."

"People are more sexually open here," Jack said. "It's not that unusual to have gay couples in the military . . . or any other profession for that matter."

"More power to you," Daniel said. "But I . . . I don't have those sorts of feelings for my Jack. I can't imagine it, to be blunt."

Jack shrugged again. "Your loss," he said. Daniel felt his eyebrows climb, but there didn't seem to be anything to say.


	36. Chapter 36

_**Tuesday, May 11** _ **  
Reality L583**

Jack had just finished presiding over a charming disciplinary hearing – oh the joys of being base second in command – and was looking in on Lt. Craig to see how she was recovering from her injury when he got a call to head to Carter's lab.

Craig hushed him and told him to get gone when he tried to make apologies. He nodded at her and rushed out of the infirmary towards the lab. When he arrived, he yanked the door open, hoping devoutly that it would be Daniel. Instead the sight that met his eyes made him fall back a step. Not one, not two but three Carters. Three. They were gathered around the schematic, all of them staring intently and silently.

Not only that, there was another Jack in the room. The other one looked at him, glanced at the Carters and said, "Be afraid. Be very afraid."

Jack nodded. "I'm terrified," he said. Gazing at the three women, he stepped inside the room and shut the door behind him. "Okay, ladies?" They all looked up and he felt a little intimidated by the three pairs of brilliant blue eyes. "Um . . . I'm going to get lost real fast without a scorecard. We need to come up with some kind of naming thing." He scanned the three women. "You're my Carter, right?"

She blinked. "I'm the Carter who belongs here, at any rate," she said.

"O . . . kay . . ." He took in a breath. "Does one of you belong to the universe where Daniel has Sha're and kids?"

One of the other Sams raised her hand, a slight smile on her face. "Okay, so we'll call you kid-Sam," he said.

"Kid-Sam?" she repeated, looking a little bemused. "Kid-Sam?"

Dismissing her possible objection from his mind, he turned to the remaining Samantha Carter. "You're the Carter from the fucked up universe," he said.

"If you call me 'fucked-up Sam,' I'll start throwing things."

"Wasn't planning on it," he said. "I thought I'd call you Samantha."

"That's what I call myself," she replied.

He nodded. "That's why." He looked at the three of them, each in turn. "So we've got Carter, Samantha and kid-Sam."

"Could I be called something other than kid-Sam?" kid-Sam asked.

"No," Jack said.

"It works," the other Jack replied.

She raised her eyebrows. "Sir?!" He shrugged, looking insufferable. Jack wondered vaguely if he ever looked like that, then decided it didn't matter. Kid-Sam shook her head. "Does that make you kid-Jack, then?" she asked.

"No," the other Jack replied, and Jack opened his mouth to refute this. The other man beat him to it, though. "I'm the colonel."

"No," Jack growled. "I'm the colonel."

"No, you're Jack. I'm the colonel."

"Look, I live here, I get to make up the names."

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

"Who put you in charge?"

"I did!"

"Good grief!" Carter said. "Sirs, if you could take your . . . discussion . . . outside, we have work to do."

Kid-Sam shrugged. "It could be worse, there could be three of them." Samantha's eyes flew wide and she let out a strange sniffly sound. Kid-Sam looked stricken. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . . I'm sorry."

Both the other Carters put an arm around Samantha, and Jack met the colonel's eyes. He opened the door and gestured the man out. "There's an empty lab just next door that might be a little less disturbing."

"Sounds good."

They headed out into the hall, but had proceeded no more that five feet when a voice from behind them made them both turn. "Jack!?" Jack stood to the side as the colonel gazed in wide-eyed astonishment at the Daniel in the wheelchair. Teal'c, who'd been pushing the chair, looked on with curiosity. "Are you my Jack?" Daniel asked hesitantly.

"Are you the Daniel who has two irrepressible munchkins named Jonny and Kate?"

Daniel launched himself out of the wheelchair and into the other Jack's arms. The colonel caught him and stumbled backwards, trying his level best to steady a man who was none too steady on his feet. They hugged tightly, and Jack was glad to see that Daniel's comments that he didn't think his Jack liked him much were unfounded.

"You okay, Danny?" the colonel asked after several minutes, drawing back but keeping his hands on Daniel's shoulders to give him extra support. "Why were you in a wheelchair?"

"I'm fine, Jack," Daniel said in a dismissive tone. "Are the kids all right?"

"They're good," the other Jack said. "Well, that is to say, they're in good health. Jonny's never good."

Tears began to pour down Daniel's face. "They're okay, though?" he asked. "Kate hasn't had any more respiratory problems? Jonny doesn't have an ear infection or anything?"

"No, they're fine," the colonel said, cradling his Daniel close and patting his back. "The respiratory thing cleared up almost six weeks ago. Jonny's had two ear infections since you . . . but they both went away like normal. He's fine."

Jack walked over to stand by Teal'c, who was looking quietly pleased. He wished he could see his Daniel back together with Sha're and the father of children. Daniel would be such a good father. His kids might be a little frightening, but he'd be a good father.

"And how is Sha're?"

"Impatient," Jack said with a bark of laughter. "It was all we could do to convince her to stay home. She wanted to see for herself that we wouldn't be sending the Daniel we've been taking care of into a rotten situation."

"This isn't a rotten situation, Jack. These people are great."

"Great, huh?" the colonel said. "That's . . . great."

"So much is the same here," Daniel said. "Except . . . their Sha're . . . she's –"

"Dead? That seems to be a common –"

"No," Daniel replied, and the colonel looked down at him in surprise.

"Then . . . where is she?"

"Amunet took her for a host," Daniel said, and Jack controlled his own reaction. That sweet, spirited young woman who had helped to lead the Abydonian rebellion and who had made Daniel so deliriously happy that he had forsaken dentists and flush toilets . . . all her will sublimated to a snake. It was a crime. He wasn't altogether sure how his Daniel would react to knowing about this Daniel and his life.

"God!" the colonel exclaimed, looking appalled. "And Skaara?"

"Klorel," Jack said.

They were silent for a moment, then Teal'c said, "I believe we should leave the public corridor."

Jack nodded. "Right. This way, guys." He led them into the lab where they'd spent so much time meeting with Maybourne. "So, what's up? Why the Carter extravaganza?"

"Actually, it was Samantha's idea. She's got this notion that three Carters bouncing ideas off each other can figure out a way to get to the reality where your Daniel is more quickly than one."

"She's probably right," Jack said. "But it's a little unsettling. I mean, it would be worse if there were three Daniels in there with them, but still . . ."

The colonel nodded with feeling, and Daniel looked at both of them with a certain amount of irritation. "What's wrong with that idea?"

Jack shuddered and the colonel did the same. "Well, for one thing, three Carters and three Daniels would raise the IQ level in that room way beyond the ability of normal mortals to tolerate."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Ah, this again. The 'I'm stupid' thing."

The colonel shook his head and Jack thought he saw a sparkle in his eyes before he seized Daniel in another crushing hug. Jack raised his eyebrows, then looked at Teal'c and gestured towards the doorway with his head. The Jaffa nodded and they both started towards the door, but the colonel spoke before they got there.

"Hey, where are you going? I need to know what's been going on with my archeologist, and I need to thank you for taking care of him."

"And I need to sit down," Daniel said. "Damn, but this is taking awhile." Teal'c strode immediately back over to the wheelchair and braced it so the archeologist could sit down.

"What is it?" the colonel asked, then he turned to Jack. "What's wrong with him?"

"He was pretty banged up when he got here," Jack said. "Broken ribs, broken arm, broken foot, bruised kidneys that led to temporary acute renal failure, um . . ."

"That is all apart from sundry contusions and abrasions," Teal'c said. "However, it is taking some time for DanielJackson to recover due to the number and severity of his injuries."

"The foot is largely healed," Daniel said. "But I can't stay upright for long because it's still weak and their doctor doesn't want me to risk falling with the cracked ribs."

"Not to mention the cast on your arm," the colonel said, squatting in front of the chair and looking into his archeologist's eyes. "Sha're will fuss, you know."

Daniel chuckled. "I know. I've been wondering how well I'll withstand an enthusiastic hug from my son, though. I'd swear that his uncle's been teaching him body-slamming techniques." The colonel laughed

Jack bit his lip and turned away. Watching this reunion was both great and very distressing. He wanted his Daniel back, if nothing else, so the man could feed his own damned fish.

"We will retrieve DanielJackson, O'Neill," Teal'c said quietly.

"I know," Jack said.

"So, how is the guy who got left behind in my place?"

"Indecently optimistic," the colonel said. "Which reminds me," he said, turning to Jack and leaning against one of the lab counters. "There's something I need to run by you. Something that we didn't think to mention to Samantha and Maybourne."

"What's that?" Jack asked, hooking a chair out and sitting down across its back.

"How do folks in this universe view homosexuality?" he asked.

Jack raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Fairly negatively," he said. "Why?"

The colonel shook his head. "Then we may not be able to leave him here," he muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" Jack asked.

"Well, the Daniel . . . it might not be the best thing if . . . I mean . . ."

"Are you saying he's gay?" Daniel asked.

"Well, according to him he's bi, but his current l . . . um . . . his significant other is . . . well, he's male."

Jack shrugged again. "I don't see how that will be a difficulty," he said.

"But you just said that your universe is very negative about gays," the colonel replied.

"No, I said fairly negative, and that's sort of a generalization. He'll only be here, probably only seen by a few people, and it's not like we're going to make an announcement about it."

The colonel crossed his arms. "But what if you were stuck with him?"

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"What if no one ever figures out a way to get your Daniel back or send this Daniel back where he belongs? Is that going to be a problem?"

Jack pursed his lips and said, "Yeah, that would be a problem. Stupid question."

The colonel shook his head. "Poorly phrased, but you know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah, and no. We'd be fine. We'd just have to prepare him for possible problems he'd encounter. What, is homosexuality considered hunky dory in your reality?"

"No," the colonel said, "but that makes me a little leery of sending him somewhere without knowing how people are going to treat him. And it's a little more complicated. See, his . . . significant other is a member of the SGC."

"Who is it?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah, we could just set things up so he never runs into that person unless strictly necessary, right?"

The colonel grimaced. "It's not really that easy. See . . . it's . . ."

That Jack and his Daniel exchanged a speaking look. "No!" Daniel exclaimed. "You're kidding? Not . . . no!"

Jack blinked. Who did he think it was? Who was it? He glanced at the colonel, who shrugged. "Yup. Freaked me out a little at first, I mean . . . but –"

"You weren't mean to him were you?" Daniel demanded.

"No!" It was odd, hearing that defensive tone from the outside. Jack had a feeling that he'd be very self-conscious the next time he had one of these kinds of discussions with his own Daniel.

"Because I know you can be a little . . ."

"No, I wasn't mean to him, but I do want to note, for the record, that the idea never even crossed my mind, okay!" Jack shook his head. Who were they talking about? He glanced at Teal'c, and saw the surmise enter his eyes. He scowled. Was he just dense? Who was it?

"Sure, Jack," Daniel said, sounding amused. "Besides, if anything like that ever happened, Sha're would kill us both."

Looking dubious, the colonel said, "I'm not so sure of that."

"What do you mean?"

"You know that Abydonian culture is more tolerant of extra-marital sex than ours is."

"Yes, and I know that Sha're quickly became very American in that regard."

"Well, she's said a few things that imply that she'd be more okay with it if it was . . . well, let's just say 'all in the family' so to speak."

"What? You think she'd –"

"I don't know, but it's been . . . it sounds . . ."

Jack shook his head. "Wait, you're not saying . . . are you saying that . . ."

"In that reality, Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson are lovers," Teal'c said, "or so I surmise."

"Euew!" Jack said.

"My sentiments exactly," the colonel said. "Or at least that was how I felt at the start."

Jack blinked. "You're not saying that you . . ."

"Of course not!" the colonel exclaimed. "Euew!"

"Besides, even if they weren't in a monogamous relationship, I can't imagine anyone would cope with his lover having sex with an alternate reality version of himself," Daniel observed, and several wildly bizarre images danced through Jack's head. Images he neither wanted nor needed, thank you very much.

"Right," the colonel said. "So, I thought I'd better check out your reactions first before we decided to do this swap."

Jack nodded. "I can see that. It's a little freaky, I will admit, but I don't think it will be a problem." He shivered slightly. "I think I'm over the worst of it."

"But what about the rest of the folks here? Your Carter?"

"She's the last person who'd have a problem with it," Jack said.

"Teal'c?" the colonel asked, turning to the Jaffa.

"Homosexuality is not uncommon among my people," he said. "It is not encouraged, but neither is it frowned upon the way it is here."

"What about Hammond?"

"What about Hammond?" Hammond asked from the doorway. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, gentlemen, but the three ladies next door hardly seemed to need me." He glanced back and forth between the two Jacks. "I'm guessing this one's my O'Neill," he said, pointing at Jack.

"You would be right, sir," Jack said. "The colonel, here, is concerned that we're going to have a problem with the Daniel that was left with them."

"And why would that be?"

"Um . . ." Jack discovered that he didn't quite know how to broach the subject with Hammond.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Evidently that Daniel is homosexual and is having a relationship with his own Jack O'Neill. My Jack is a little worried that will be a problem. Jack here seems to think it will be okay, but my Jack wants to know more about how other people will react."

Hammond rocked backwards for a moment at the onslaught of information, then shook his head. "I don't see why there would be a problem, honestly. It's meant to be a temporary situation, after all, and even if, God forbid, it became a permanent one, I don't think problems would arise."

"Hmm . . ." The colonel looked unhappy. "I'm still not entirely happy with the idea."

"Jack, these are good folks," Daniel said. "They've been very good to me, even if they wouldn't let me go offworld."

"Why would you go offworld in your condition?"

"There were some people in trapped in a Goa'uld elevator, but we didn't know what it was initially, and they wouldn't let me go out there to make the translations in person. I had to use cameras and monitors and give instructions to live tripods, all from here, in their Daniel's office."

The colonel turned to Jack. "He asked you to let him go offworld?"

"He was quite insistent about it," Jack said. "You're surprised?"

The other Jack's shoulders slumped, and he sighed. "No, I guess not," he said. "Daniel, you make me crazy!"

The archeologist bit his lip and glanced up at his Jack with wide eyes. His pupils were huge, his expression alarmed and very vulnerable. "I – I – just wanted to help."

The colonel looked startled by the reaction, but Jack wasn't letting it go by. He grabbed the colonel. "You and me need to have a little chat outside."

"O'Neill?" Hammond said and Jack paused. "Not in the open, okay?"

"Right, sir," he said, and dragged the colonel outside and to the next lab down the hall. Slamming the door shut behind him he said, "Oh, that's just great. Yell at him, make him feel like the useless twerp he thinks you already think he is." He paused briefly to think the sentence through again and then nodded.

"What?" the colonel exclaimed. "I don't think he's useless. Where in the world would you get an idea like that?"

Jack glared at him. "Oddly enough, from him." He shook his head. "Look, he's been through hell, and he doesn't need you coming down on him like that. He can't handle it."

"I saw that," the colonel said, looking disturbed. "He usually just yells right back at me."

"You yell at him often enough for there to be a usual response?" Jack asked.

"Are you going to tell me that you don't yell at your Daniel?" the colonel demanded.

"It's not the same!" Jack replied. "There was a distinct sense of hostility coming from you just now. A distinct sense of anger rather than exasperation."

"You don't know us," the colonel growled. "Maybe your Daniel is less –"

"Yeah, right!" Jack said. "There are two chief things that separate your Daniel from my Daniel. My Daniel's wife is still stuck out there with Apophis, and my Daniel knows I like him."

"My Daniel knows that," the colonel protested.

"Yeah, I can tell," Jack said sarcastically. "That must be why he told me you don't. Why I had to reassure him that he was mistaken, and I damned well better have been right to do that."

"That's ridiculous," the colonel said. "I need to go back to stay with him." He started to open the door to the hallway.

"Easy there, turbo," Jack replied. "You need to hear this."

"What makes you think you know so much?" the colonel said, shutting the door again and turning to glare.

"I know what he said and what he did while he was here. You made noises about wanting to know that stuff earlier, and I can pretty well guarantee that he won't tell you this himself."

The colonel walked over and sat down in a chair, so Jack did the same. "Fine, tell me what it is you seem to think you know."

"Well, first off, you've been making noises about not wanting to send the gay Daniel here. To be completely frank, if it wasn't for Sha're and the kids, I might be unwilling to send him home with you."

"Based on what?"

Jack sighed and leaned towards the colonel, his arms on the countertop. "When he came to, he thought I was you, and he seemed astonished to find me sitting there. He tried to convince me that, since he knew I didn't like him, I could just run along and he'd be fine. This was, mind you, when he was still hallucinating because of all the poisons that weren't leaving his system while his kidneys were shut down."

"So he was confused. He didn't really understand who he was talking about or to. You –"

"No, he knew who he was talking about." Jack cast his mind back to what this Daniel had actually said. "he told me 'you're always growling at me, and you never hang out at my office anymore.' That's a direct quote."

"I'm . . . I'm busy."

"Oh, that's a hell of an excuse," Jack said disgustedly.

"Right. Tell me you aren't busy."

"I'm never so busy that I can't find time for my friends," Jack said.

"I'd be willing to bet that you don't even have a personal life," the colonel replied. "Apart from fishing, which you do alone."

Jack raised a hand and began ticking the names off on his fingers. "Teal'c. Carter. Daniel. I make time for them. Carter, when I can actually get her to leave the mountain, has an active social life, but Daniel doesn't talk to much of anybody, and neither does Teal'c."

"I make time for Teal'c," the colonel said defensively. "But Daniel has Sha're. He doesn't need me."

Jack shook his head. "He seems to disagree."

"He seemed to be pretty glad to see someone he doesn't think likes him," the colonel pointed out.

"Well, maybe that's because I persuaded him that your reasons for behaving like a jackass made a certain amount of sense and that he might need to give you a little leeway. But if you pull many more cracks like that one, you're going to undo all the work I did, and he'll be worse off than before." He shrugged. "Besides, just because he doesn't think you like him doesn't mean that he's stopped liking you, unfathomable as that seems."

"So what are these reasons you gave him?" the colonel asked sarcastically.

"Jonny, Kate and Sha're," Jack said.

The other man looked as if he'd punched him in the gut. "What do you mean?"

"Look, colonel, I know you. Who better? And every time he risks himself in some damn fool stunt, you get mad at him not just because you know how much you'll miss him, but because he's got what you've lost and you can't stand to see another man risk that, especially not one you care so much about."

The colonel glared at him for a long moment, then rose and turned away. "Damn you!" he growled. "Damn you!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't have tons of time to get this through to you, and that man has just spent a month being shouted at and beaten up on by a man who looks and sounds like you. A very angry man, from the sounds of things. You yell at him now and you're going to give him flashbacks."

The colonel turned slowly. "PTSD?"

"Yup," Jack said. "Add into that the fact that he wasn't altogether sure that you even liked him anymore when all this started, and you've got something of a mess. For all he knows you were on the verge of stepping over that particular line." The colonel's face went red with anger, then white with alarm. "You yell at him now, and he may not be able to handle it. He might start being actively afraid of you."

"But I – I'd never –"

"I'm not saying that it's true," Jack said. "I have no reason to think it's true, but you and I both know we have issues with anger. Daniel knows you have issues with anger."

"And Sha're will kill me if I frighten him."

"Dead." Jack sighed. "I told him that I think of my Daniel as an exasperating younger brother that I've been given charge of, one who won't listen and keeps getting into trouble. I don't know if that's how you think of yours, but if you do, you need to find a different way of showing that to him than by yelling at him when he gets himself mangled or captured or whatever."

"You're –"

Before the other Jack could tell him what he was, the door opened and Carter came in. "Sir, we've reached the end of what we can do together for now. We each want to do some testing in our own realities, and then we want to get together tomorrow."

"Here?" Jack asked.

"Well, we can't initiate contact very effectively yet, so yes, here."

"That sounds reasonable," Jack said. "What do you think, colonel?"

"Sounds like we need to decide some things right now, then," the colonel said. "I need to talk to my Carter alone, if you would."

"Kid-Sam," Jack said.

The colonel gave him a very dry look and Carter's eyes widened. She said, "I'll get her," and vanished precipitately.

"Decisions, huh?" Jack asked.

"Like whether you're going to give us our Daniel back and whether we're going to give you the Daniel we've been taking care of."

"Is that in question still?" Jack asked.

"You seem to have your own doubts," the colonel replied, looking sour. Jack noted, however, that he also seemed thoughtful, which was a good sign.

"I wouldn't keep that man away from his babies for anything," Jack said. "If it wasn't for them . . . I might feel differently. But it really comes down to whether or not the man wants to go back, and I don't see him objecting."

The colonel pursed his lips. "Right."

Kid-Sam walked in and Jack said, "I'll take this as my cue to leave." He walked out and went back to the lab with the mirror where he found Samantha alone.

"Hi," she said, looking uneasy.

"Hello." Aware of her almost fearful reaction to him, he walked over to a chair that was a good fifteen feet away from her and ten feet from the door and, flipping it around, he sat down. "How's your Jack?"

She shrugged. "He's still pretty out of it," she said. "They've gotten him to react to some stimuli, but not much. Mostly he just sits in a corner of his hospital room and rocks."

"I'm sorry. That's got to suck."

She blinked at him. "You're sorry?" she repeated. "That's new."

"How so?"

"Most of your counterparts have been pretty abusive about him. I mean, I can't say that they're completely wrong, but not one of them has ever offered sympathy before."

Jack grimaced. "Well, I wasn't inclined to at first, to be blunt. But then I got to thinking about what that sarc addiction did to our Daniel. Sweetest, most selfless man I've ever known, and he turned into a selfish, mean-spirited, pleasure-seeking asshole. I'm not saying your Jack didn't do things wrong, but I've had a lot more time than my counterparts have had to think about that whole drug thing. It isn't an excuse, but it makes it a lot more comprehensible."

She nodded slowly. "Well, the doctors aren't sure he'll recover completely, but I can tell you one thing. He was ready to sacrifice just about anything to keep your Daniel safe, and . . . in the end . . . he killed Hammond as a direct result of what he did to Daniel."

"Just about anything?" Jack asked, and she started twisting her hands together.

"Yes, well, he couldn't do things that Daniel himself would despise . . ." She shook her head. "He couldn't become the man that Hammond wanted him to be to save Daniel. It would have been self-defeating."

Jack opened his mouth and then closed it again. Taking a deep breath, he said, "So, are you referring to some specific event or are you speaking more generally?"

"Specific event," she said. "Hammond wanted him to shoot at a bunch of people we were forcing to mine naquadah and who were striking over poor working conditions. It's a long story. Suffice it to say, if he'd agreed, your Daniel would have been upset, disturbed, disgusted, any number of adjectives I can think of. Knowing your Daniel, and I d . . . do, he would rather have gotten beaten up a little, which is what happened, than to have Jack attack innocents with full military force."

"You spent a lot of time with him?"

She nodded. "It became very clear that they were interacting more like our Jack and Daniel had, with one major exception. Your Daniel was able, for the most part, to defuse Jack's temper and redirect it somehow. I don't really understand why or how, but Hammond was pleased – at least until it also became obvious that he was having the same 'softening influence' on Jack that our Daniel'd had on him." She shook her head. "Things with him started diverging on the second day he was there. Jack acted differently towards him, and he acted differently than the others had towards Jack. It was kind of creepy at first, he seemed so much like our own Daniel. 'Jack's just looking out for me . . . he has my best interests at heart . . .'" She shuddered. "I didn't know what to make of it at first, but . . ." She shrugged. "I spent a lot of time with him because Jack started acting like he was our Daniel. We'd all have dinner. When he was sick, someone had to sit with him. And Hammond started giving him perks, like movies and music, and I was part of that somehow. And right at the end . . . after they moved him, Hammond had me eating dinner with him every night. I think it was so that he'd have something easy and obvious to take away if Daniel misbehaved."

Jack listened to her speaking with a mix of curiosity and utter dismay. How had his Daniel learned so well to cope with an abuser? Jack had never behaved that way towards him, so who had, and when?

The door opened to admit Hammond, two Carters, the other Jack, and Teal'c pushing Daniel's chair. There was little enough space in the room to begin with. The crowd was a little much. "So, what do you want to do, Samantha?" kid-Sam asked. "Do you want to take us all through your reality, or just take us home straight from here?"

"Straight, I'd say," Samantha said.

"Someone's going to have to go through first and send for a wheelchair. I don't think we want to take this one with us."

"Sure," kid-Sam said. "Will do."

Samantha turned the mirror on and set it to the correct reality. "You're good to go," she said. Kid-Sam gave her a squeeze on the shoulder, and then went through. It was creepy to say the least, but Jack held in his reaction. A few minutes later they saw another Daniel approaching the mirror with kid-Sam beside him. Jack watched as he hugged her and then hugged . . . Sha're . . .

Then he touched the mirror and came through. Jack saw tears standing in his eyes as he approached the colonel and daddy-Daniel. He squatted. "You're a very lucky man," he said. "I wish I could have met your children, but Sha're, very wisely I think, said it was a bad idea."

Daddy-Daniel nodded and reached out to shake hands. "Well, the folks here are good people, and I guess all three of the Sams are going to be working on a way to get you home sooner."

"Four," the new Daniel said, smiling slyly. "Mine will be working on her own, but I guarantee you, she will be working hard on the same problem."

Jack clenched his teeth. They had two Daniels in this room. Two. And neither of them was his. It wasn't fair.

Daddy-Daniel chuckled. "Right," he said. "Four. She must be one resourceful lady to manage all this without a mirror."

The new Daniel grinned. "She is that," he said. "But I'm impressed with Samantha. After everything that's happened, she's still doing her best to get us all home." Both Daniels turned towards Samantha who was flushing.

"Well, it's time for us to be heading home, Dannyboy," the other Jack said.

Jack strode forward. "Not before I say goodbye," he said. The colonel faded back slightly and Jack smiled at Daniel. "You be good to your kids, Daniel," he said. "And to Sha're."

"Always," he said, smiling. "And you hold on. Have confidence in the Carter extravaganza. They'll get everything straightened out. You'll see."

Jack nodded and gave him a hug. He stepped back and let Carter, Teal'c and Hammond have their go. Rothman had already said his farewells, so he'd been told, and Jack was just as glad to have missed them.

Once everyone had said goodbye, daddy-Daniel and the colonel went through the mirror to join kid-Sam. There was a manic reunion on the other side of the mirror, and pleased as he was for them, Jack had to turn away. He found himself looking into the other Daniel's eyes where he, too, had looked away.

The mirror turned off and Samantha said, "Well, I'd better be going home as well."

Daniel turned back towards her. "Are you all right, Samantha?"

She smiled. "I will be. The more of you I can get home, the happier I'll be. I . . ." She grimaced. "That came out badly. I just . . ."

"No, we understand," Carter said.

"Yes," Daniel said. "His Sha're has been needing him, and the kids. God, I wish I could have met them."

"I don't suppose you have photos?" Carter asked. It was a question Jack had wanted to ask, but he doubted he'd ever have gotten around to it.

"I do," Daniel said. "I probably shouldn't. Janet will likely take them away the first chance she gets, but I wanted to . . . I don't know, I just didn't want to give them up." Samantha looked curious, so Daniel pulled a wallet out of his pocket and opened it up. "You're going to have to leave soon, aren't you?" he asked. She nodded and he handed her the wallet. Her eyes lit as she looked down then she handed it back and said, "I had best be going. We'll return tomorrow around ten, right, Sam?"

"It is, Samantha," Carter said. "See you then."

She activated the mirror again and reset it, then touched it and was gone. Jack shook his head. "That woman has too much on her shoulders," he muttered.

"Indeed," Teal'c said.

"Unfortunately, there's not a whole lot we can do about that," Hammond said. He walked over to Daniel. "Welcome to our reality, son. I hope you don't mind, but I've had housekeeping clean up the room the other Daniel's been using for your use."

"That sounds fine," Daniel said. "Um . . ." He looked around, his eyes landing on Jack and then skittering away. He turned back to Hammond and met his eyes, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Did anyone think to mention that I'm –"

"Yes," Jack interjected, and Daniel turned to him. "And all I can say is that I think you've got bad taste."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "You don't know my Jack," he said mildly, a grin teasing the corner of his lips. "But for the record, my Sam thinks the same as you do."

A sudden giggle escaped Carter, and Jack glared at her. She cleared her throat, suppressing all signs of mirth. "We're glad to have you, Daniel," she said. "But could you all get out of my lab so I can get back to work?"

Daniel smiled at her. "Thank you," he said simply, then he turned to Hammond. "So, where is this room?"

"This way," Hammond said. Jack and Teal'c took up the rear as they headed through the halls. "We've told everyone that you are here and that you're not the Daniel they know. Nothing more detailed than that."

"Is there a problem with people knowing my preferences?"

"Possibly," Hammond said. "There are people who would have a problem with it, and it's possible that those problems would carry over to our Daniel when he returned."

Daniel gazed at him for a moment, then nodded. "Gotcha. So, what have you got for me to do? I warn you, I'll go stir crazy if I don't get to do at least some work."

"We'll find you things to do, but we don't want to take advantage of you."

Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "Take advantage. Otherwise I'll go stark raving nuts, and you don't want that."

"Did you do the sarc thing?" Jack asked. Daniel nodded. "Okay, then, been there, done that, don't want the t-shirt."

Hammond nodded, and said, "Here's the room. It's just one of the VIP rooms, so it's nothing unusual, but if you find you need anything just ask Colonel O'Neill. I'm assigning him and Teal'c to looking after you."

"Thank you, sir," Daniel said.

"I'll come by this evening to see how you are," Hammond said and then left.

Daniel looked around and said, "There isn't an iota of difference between this room and the same one back home."

"Indeed?" Teal'c said.

"Not that I can see," Daniel said. He stood up. "How long have you been missing your Daniel?" he asked.

"Just over five weeks," Jack said, sighing. "How long have you been away from home?"

"Not quite three months," he said, his grin faltering. "I miss them all more than I can say, and it was both a blessing and a curse to be so close to a living Sha're."

"In what way a curse?" Teal'c asked.

"Mine is dead, and she was a living, breathing, overprotective reminder of everything I lost when Apophis attacked Abydos, and that was all my fault. If I just hadn't unburied the stargate –"

"Apophis would have come later and destroyed your people from orbit," Teal'c said implacably. "And you as well."

Daniel looked up at him with a startled look on his face. "I guess, but I still feel responsible."

"How was it a blessing?" Jack asked curiously. He couldn't think of a plus to be had in that circumstance.

"She is very like my Sha're, so having her tell me that she's not only not disgusted by my relationship with Jack, but is pleased that I'm not alone was . . . it was like absolution."

Jack nodded slowly. "Well, I don't know if anybody at the other end knows this to tell you, but the Sha're here isn't dead either."

"She's not?" Daniel exclaimed, sitting up straight. "Where is she? Is she here?"

"She is not," Teal'c said phlegmatically. "She is Amunet's host."

Daniel's face froze, then he sat back looking stunned. "Amunet's host?" he repeated. "How does your Daniel live with that?"

"Not well," Jack said. "Not well at all."

Daniel shook his head. "I can't imagine that. Having her dead is bad enough, having her inhabited by the enemy would be a nightmare."

"If you will excuse me, I have duties to attend to," Teal'c said. Daniel nodded wordlessly and Teal'c bowed himself out.

"Did I say something wrong?" Daniel asked.

"How did your Sha're die?" Jack asked. "If it's not too painful for you to talk about."

Daniel grimaced. "It was in the attack on Abydos. Jack, Sam and I were looking at the gate addresses in the other temple when it came . . ."

Jack nodded. "That's when Apophis attacked Abydos here, too," he said.

Daniel took a deep breath. "Well, when Apophis attacked, she fought back, and one of the Jaffa shot her with a staff weapon. There was no way to save her, she was dead when we got to the Abydos gateroom, and Skaara was taken."

"But, let me guess," Jack said, "Feretti saw the coordinates."

Daniel nodded. "Here, too, huh?"

"Here, too, except that Apophis took Sha're as well as Skaara. And Teal'c, as first prime of Apophis, selected the candidates for Amunet's host, so he's the one who put Sha're in that position in the first place."

Daniel glanced toward the door. "So that's why he left so suddenly." He grimaced. "Oops."

Jack shrugged. "It's his problem, not yours. I didn't tell you that to make you feel guilty, just so you'd understand the reaction."

This information had about the impact it would have had on his own Daniel, Jack noted sourly. He still looked just as remorseful as he had before. "I didn't mean to upset him. Maybe if I . . . no, saying something probably wouldn't help, would it?"

"I doubt it," Jack said. "So, have you eaten recently?"

Daniel laughed. "Sha're informed me that I would probably get starved over here, so she absolutely insisted on feeding me. She's probably feeding him right now. She kept telling me I was too thin."

"Sounds like her," Jack said. "I wish . . ." He shook his head. "And if wishes were horses, we'd have rings on our fingers and bells on our toes . . . um . . ."

Daniel looked at him dubiously for a moment, then said, "Right."

"Yeah," Jack said. "So . . . um . . . dessert?" The archeologist's eyebrows went up. "There's always room for Jello."

Daniel nodded. "I think I could handle Jello."

* * *

**Reality G298**

"I won't leave, I promise," Jack said through the surgical mask he wore and Daniel gave him a quick nod. Even the crazy Jack would never have let anyone else hurt him, particularly not while he was under anesthesia, so he felt safe with that promise. He felt guilty for not trusting this Janet, but he knew Jack.

Dr. Fraiser had just seemed so relieved that he'd agreed to the surgery that she'd have agreed to whatever conditions he made. She leaned over him. "All right, we're going to get started now. You okay?"

"Yeah," Daniel said, and she nodded to the anesthetist.

When he next came to himself, he felt very woozy and out of it, but Jack was there. He was sitting by the bed, reading something blurry. There were beeps and other medical sounds going on around him, which was both reassuring and alarming. He hated having to be hooked up to machines.

There was a sudden escalation in the beeping that started an escalation in activity around him. He felt a needle prick in his arm and then drifted away


	37. Chapter 37

_**Wednesday, May 12** _ **  
Reality L583**

The three women had exchanged the results of their experiments, discussed future plans and then separated again. Jack was praying that they'd come up with something soon. He'd known his Daniel too long not to recognize the maniacally optimistic mood that this one was in as desperation. He didn't want to show his hosts how anxious he really was, and Jack couldn't blame him.

Rothman brought him work and reference materials, and Jack provided him with a human being to bounce his emotional ping-pong balls off of. He had a feeling that this being the third alternate reality since he'd been abducted from his own was making the poor man feel very dislocated. He'd been in three universes now where there were people and places that were familiar but not.

Teal'c was having his own emotional reactions that were causing him to be more distant from this Daniel, which left Jack as the person holding the bag, mostly alone. Hammond came by regularly, as his duties permitted, but his response to the new situation had been to find someone else to handle Jack's daily duties rather than detailing someone else to the Daniel watch. Jack had left this Daniel with Rothman long enough to let Hammond know that he thought the archeologist was on an emotional precipice and why, and the general had agreed that Jack needed to be with him pretty much all the time.

Oddly enough, Daniel hadn't objected to Jack hanging around on a consistent basis, which confirmed his own belief that the man was feeling the need for constant support.

There was a light tapping on the door, then it opened quietly. Daniel was asleep at the moment and didn't wake up as the general stepped inside. "I thought you should know, I sent Carter home. She hasn't been getting enough sleep, and Fraiser informed me that she wasn't going to unless she was removed from the base."

Jack nodded. "Makes sense. Any news?"

"Nothing so far, but I'm not surprised. We'll just have to give it a little more time." He glanced over at the sleeping archeologist. "How's he holding up?"

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances," Jack said. "Poor man."

Hammond nodded. "Is there anything else the two of you need?"

"More for him to do?" Jack suggested. "He needs something to keep his mind of things, and something that's not obviously make work. He needs to feel like he's doing something valuable."

"I'll see what I can find," Hammond said.

"Thanks, sir," Jack said.

"Now, you need to get rest, too. That's why we brought a cot in here."

"Are you ordering me to go to bed, sir?" Jack asked.

"I am, colonel," Hammond replied with a faint grin. "Any objections?"

"No sir, just checking."

"Good night, Jack."

Jack nodded and went to lay down on the cot. He took one last look at the Daniel on the bed, then rolled over and went to sleep, trying not to wonder what might be going on with his own Daniel.

* * *

_**Thursday, May 13** _

Jack was reading through one of SG-3's reports, analyzing their discoveries for possible military applications. The visiting Daniel was translating some kind of text, Jack didn't know anything about it except that there were some lives riding on the solution.

Rothman came in with a stack of books and an offer of assistance that was gladly taken up by Daniel. Jack said, "I'll be back in a couple of hours, okay?"

"Sure, Jack," Daniel said. "You need to get out of here more. Go, don't come back for awhile."

Jack smiled. He must be feeling better if he was getting that variety of pushy. "Okay, I know when I'm not wanted."

He left and went to get cleaned up. Heading to his office, he sorted through his e-mails and the notes on what had been taken care of for him. There were a few things he needed to discuss with Hammond where Daniel couldn't hear him, so he got up and started towards the door. The phone rang just as his hand hit the knob, and he turned back.

"O'Neill."

"Sir!" It was Carter, sounding excited. His heart picked up the pace a little in response. "Sir, I think we've found it! Don't tell Daniel in case I'm wrong, but come here! Now! Sir!" The phone crashed down, and he was out the door after hanging up his own receiver.

He and Hammond arrived at the same moment, and Teal'c was a moment after them. All three Carters were present. Their Carter stepped forward. "Okay, sirs, we think we've found the right method. It's like punching a tiny pinhole through the energy barriers that separate the realities."

"You're punching a hole in the universe?!" Jack exclaimed incredulously. "Maybe I'm off base here, but isn't that bad?"

"Well, technically, yes, sir," Carter said uncertainly.

"And we're okay with this?" he asked.

"It's hard to explain, sir," kid-Sam said. "We got some technical help from Lya, so we don't altogether understand it ourselves. Basically, the hole is only open for 1.738 nanoseconds, then closes behind you."

"So it's safe?"

"Yes, sir," two of them answered at once.

"Just curious, was it your Lya or our Lya?"

"Ours," Carter said. "So, now we think we can go there, but we don't know who to send to go talk to those folks."

"I'm thinking that I'm a poor choice," Samantha said. "After all, they've had the double whammy of having their Daniel taken and having a Daniel . . . um . . . well, die in their arms, all because of my reality. I think it needs to be someone from here."

"I'll go," Jack said instantly.

"I do not think that O'Neill should go," Teal'c said, and Jack turned to him in astonishment. "It was an O'Neill who robbed them of their Daniel. They will be suspicious of any O'Neill who shows up."

"And they might shoot first and ask questions later," Samantha said, giving him a sympathetic look. "Most of the realities were pretty unwelcoming to me and Maybourne, and neither of us was known to be involved in the kidnappings."

To Jack's dismay, Hammond was nodding. "I'm forced to agree, colonel. I think sending you would be a poor choice indeed."

"Then who do you want to send?"

"I think I should go," Carter said. "Teal'c could be misinterpreted as well, but I don't see how they could suspect me of anything too underhanded."

Jack wanted to object, but he couldn't come up with a rational reason to do so. "Fine. But I don't want you gone more than fifteen minutes the first time."

"That seems reasonable," Hammond said, giving him a dry look. "How does this work, ladies?"

The explanation went over his head. All Jack could think was that he was now running the risk of losing both of the science twins, which made him very nervous. The key part of the explanation that sank into his mind was that they had two devices, so if Carter went and didn't come back in fifteen minutes, they would be able to follow her. Apparently all that was needed was part of the material of a mirror, and that they had from fragments that had blown through into Samantha's reality when the original mirror was destroyed.

They gave Carter ten feet of clearance and then she smiled and pressed the button, vanishing from sight.

* * *

**Reality G298**

Sam was a lot more nervous about this trip than she had let on. If she'd seemed even slightly uncertain about it, she was sure that the colonel would have tried to pull the plug, and she didn't want to delay it another second.

The world seemed to shake and shimmy around her for a moment, then she found herself staring at . . . herself . . . on the other end of the same lab she'd been in before.

The other Carter looked up and her eyes widened. Then she slammed her hand down on a button beside her work station. Before the klaxon really had a chance to register in her mind, Sam recognized the gesture and raised her hands above her head scant seconds before the guards came pouring into the room with their weapons on all trained on her.

The Captain Carter walked forward and said, "Who are you and where are you from?"

"My name is Captain Samantha Carter," Sam said, "and I'm from the same reality the Daniel that I think you rescued is from."

The other Carter blinked a few times. "The Daniel that you think we rescued?" she asked.

Sam nodded. "Did you rescue a Daniel from the reality that was stealing them? One who died abruptly?" The other woman's eyes widened but she didn't speak. "And . . ." Sam glanced at the guards. "I have a question I'd rather not ask aloud."

"You do?" Sam found herself thinking of the other woman as 'Pinhole Carter' after the method she had pioneered for transdimensional travel.

"I do," Sam said.

"There's paper in that drawer to your left, and there might be a pencil."

Sam opened the drawer and pulled out the paper and the pencil, then wrote quickly, "Is your Colonel O'Neill sleeping with your Dr. Jackson?" She dropped the pencil back into the drawer, folded the paper twice then pushed it as far as she could reach up the length of the table without moving further towards her counterpart, and, incidentally, the muzzles of those guns. Then she took a step back.

Pinhole Sam picked up the paper and read it quickly, her eyes widening, then darting to Sam's face. "Yes. How did you know?"

"We have him in our reality," she said. "Your Daniel, I mean. Or at least I assume he's your Daniel. I mean, I'd rather not think that this was all happening in another collection of realities, though statistically, by the theory of alternate realities, it's actually pretty likely that it is."

Pinhole Sam nodded. "But let's not go there. It's only asking for trouble."

"Right. So, we've got your Daniel, and you've got ours and we want to switch." Sam bit her lip. "He is . . . alive . . . isn't he?"

"He is," Pinhole Sam said. "He's not in any condition to travel right now, though."

"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked anxiously. She glanced at her watch. Seven minutes to go.

"Is there a time frame on your visit?"

"There is," Sam said. "Fifteen minutes, and I only have seven left. They didn't want to take any chances, and if I don't come back, they'll send someone else. We managed to make two of the devices."

"Two? How long have you been working on them?"

"Look, I need to know why Daniel's not able to travel, so I can go home and explain why I'm not coming back with him."

"Captain, what's going –" Hammond stared at Sam, eyes wide. "Who is she?"

"According to her, she belongs to the Daniel we rescued."

"Do you believe her?"

"I do, sir," Pinhole Sam said. "And she . . . she says she has our Daniel in her reality. They want to make a swap."

Sam interrupted. "I have about five more minutes. Should I go back and tell them I need more time, or are you going to explain what's wrong with Daniel?"

"Maybe you should go back," Hammond said. "Is that possible?"

Sam nodded. "I'll be back shortly." She pressed the button on her wrist and the world went crazy for a moment again. Then she was looking at the people in her own reality. "Carter!" O'Neill exclaimed. "Was it not the right place?"

"It seems to be the right place, but I didn't have time to get all the information I needed. There was a fair amount of establishing who I am and why I was there."

"Right," the general said. "So do you need to go back?"

"Yes, with a bit more time, please."

"I'll give you an hour," Hammond said. "Then we'll come after you."

"An hour?" Colonel O'Neill objected. "Maybe she shouldn't go alone."

"I'll be fine, sir," she said. "I've spoken to their Sam and their Hammond. I don't think there's any danger."

"Very well, captain, I trust your judgment," the general said. "An hour."

"Thank you, sir," she said. She pressed the button again and when she was back in the other reality, there were only four guards in the room and their weapons were put away.

"Welcome back, captain," pinhole-Hammond said, and Sam smiled at him, unsure of whether or not she should salute. After a second, she decided against it. They weren't technically in the same service.

"Let me explain what's happened to your Daniel as I take you to see him," pinhole-Sam said.

Sam walked up beside her, and pinhole-Hammond and the guards stayed with them. "You know about the bomb, I'm guessing from things that your Daniel has said."

"Yes," Sam said, her voice going hard as she thought about that hideous thing. "What about it?"

"Janet . . . Dr. Fraiser . . . found that it had left shrapnel in his chest. See, the sarcophagus just heals around foreign matter, so the shards were still there, and given their location, they threatened his heart and lungs."

"And?"

"And so she operated on him to remove them, and unfortunately, one of them was already too near his heart. She inadvertently nicked the muscle. We had to put him back in the sarcophagus, so he's undergoing treatment to ameliorate the withdrawal symptoms."

Sam blinked. "How long will that take, and is it safe on a mental level to be in the sarcophagus twice so close together?"

"Actually, we've found that sedation as soon as the sarcophagus opens dampens the mental reaction, and Janet's put together a treatment that greatly reduces the duration and severity of the withdrawal symptoms."

"Really?" Sam shook her head. "And he's . . . he's in that stage right now?"

"Yes." Pinhole-Sam opened the door to the infirmary. "He's in the back here, let me show you."

Sam walked into the back part of the infirmary where she saw a Colonel O'Neill keeping vigil beside the bed. She approached the bed on the other side and stared down at him. It was impossible to tell for sure with him asleep, but she thought it really was her Daniel.

"You're his Carter?" pinhole-Jack asked. She nodded. "And you have our Daniel?"

"We do," she said. "He's in excellent health according to Janet, and he's very eager to get back home again." She grimaced. "We weren't sure this would work right, so we didn't tell him about it."

"So, did he get left with you?" Hammond asked.

"No," Sam said. "Actually, he was left in the reality of the man who was left with us when our d . . ." She looked down at the bed. "When Daniel was taken." She reached down and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "When . . ." She blinked. "Oh, you don't know."

"Know what?"

"In the other reality, the one that did the stealing, everything's changed. Hammond's dead, and their Jack is catatonic. I gather Colonel Makepeace is in charge, and they've abandoned the insanity. Their Carter, Lt. Carter, has been going to all the realities Daniels were stolen from and trying to get them set right again. The Daniel we had has been sent back home, which is why your Daniel is with us. He didn't think he could cope with watching everyone there be reunited when he couldn't go home."

Pinhole-Jack looked deeply distressed. "Can you send him here?"

"That's certainly our intention," she said. "How soon will our Daniel be ready to travel?"

"I'll have to defer to Dr. Fraiser on that point, pinhole-Hammond said. "Just a moment." He stepped out of the room.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed and looked worriedly into Daniel's face. He seemed completely restful, but she remembered all too well what he'd been like under the influence of that sarcophagus Shyla had addicted him to. "He's going to come out of this himself, right?" she asked.

Pinhole-Jack reached out and squeezed her shoulder, which startled Sam. There was never any physical contact between her and the colonel at home. Nothing but the bare minimum required for their jobs. "He'll be himself, don't worry. Probably not until early on Saturday, but he will be himself again."

"That's good to know," she said.

"You might want to let your Hammond know that he's easily freaked out by any strong emotion from our Hammond. It might be different with his own, but I don't know . . . this was pretty strong stuff."

"Not to you, but to Hammond?" she asked. He nodded. "I guess that makes sense. Lt. Carter practically freezes if our Hammond so much as looks serious."

"Really?" Pinhole-Jack grimaced. "Well, Daniel . . . your Daniel . . . seems to be having some heavy duty emotional issues. I guess he's been suppressing everything pretty hard for the last month or so. Now it's all coming out unpredictably. And he keeps demanding to go back, in part because you knew where he was there and in part because he doesn't want them to take another Daniel. Is that a concern anymore?"

"They have given up Daniel-napping altogether now," Sam said.

"That's good," pinhole-Jack said. "You'll have to tell him that very firmly and often. He's worried about all of them."

"That's Daniel for you," she said.

Dr. Fraiser came in and Sam looked up at her. It was very odd to see her with blond highlights. "When can he travel?" She looked down at Daniel. "The earliest would be tomorrow. He still has about six more hours of treatment, and I want to make sure he's completely stabilized before I let anyone move him."

"So tomorrow," Sam said. "And what treatment would he need on our end?"

"Well, he'll need to be sedated through at least eight o'clock Saturday morning. Assuming we release him tomorrow, I'll send sufficient doses of the correct sedative to keep him out that long, and probably a couple extra just in case. He'll probably start surfacing a bit tomorrow afternoon, but the withdrawals won't completely stop until approximately twenty-four hours after the treatment ends."

"I see," Sam said. "Dr. Fraiser . . . our Dr. Fraiser, will want to know everything she can in advance."

"I foresaw that," pinhole-Janet said. "Here." She held out a slim file. "Here is everything I know about his condition, including what he told me happened in the other reality. This will at least give her a baseline to start from in considering his treatment. I've also included details about my treatment for sarcophagus addiction, so she'll know what to expect."

"That's great," Sam said, taking the file. "Really great. Thanks." She looked down at Daniel, then glanced at her watch. "And I have to be heading back soon or they'll get worried."

"Come back tomorrow around noon," pinhole-Janet said. "We should be ready for you by then."

"And he won't be awake at any time between now and then?"

Pinhole-Janet shook her head. "He'll sleep through until late afternoon tomorrow at the earliest. Just come back tomorrow with our Daniel."

"Sure, that . . . that sounds great. I just hate leaving him here."

"I promise you, he's in good hands," the doctor said.

Sam nodded and said, "Well, then, I'll see you all tomorrow at noon. In your lab?" she asked.

"Sure," pinhole-Sam said.

"I'll need to bring someone along to carry him," she said. "I can't both carry him and work the device."

"I quite understand. We'll expect you, our Daniel Jackson and some third person to help you with your Daniel."

"Thank you, sir," Sam said. She stepped back before anyone could state an objection to that being Colonel O'Neill, being certain within her own mind that he would never consent to it being anyone else. Pressing the button, she endured the slight nausea induced by the image shifting, then blinked as she realized that she might have been better served by going back to the lab before shifting locations.

* * *

**Reality L583**

Fortunately, the only person with her in this back room of the infirmary was a nurse who just stared at her wildly for a second and then said, "So are you testing some new technology, Captain Carter?"

"Yes, Lt. Jorgenson. I need a phone." She headed to the one in Janet's office, shutting the door behind her and calling her own lab.

"O'Neill," the colonel said, sounding testy.

"Sir, this is Captain Carter. I'm back, but I came back into the infirmary. I'll be there in just a minute."

"Is Daniel with you? I'll be –"

"No, sir. I'll explain when I get there."

Janet came into the office looking mildly affronted. She shut the door. "Sam, I wouldn't have thought you'd use the infirmary as a testing ground for –"

"I didn't think, Janet, I'm sorry. I just saw Daniel. Our Daniel."

"What?" All the irritation dropped out of her expression. "Is he here?"

"No, that's why I appeared out of nowhere. I was in the reality where he is."

Janet's eyebrows raised. "In the infirmary?" she asked with some alarm.

Sam nodded. "Come on, I have to explain it all to Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond, and this is some information for you." She held out the file. Janet took it and they left the infirmary quickly, Sam guiding her towards the lab.

"Is he all right?"

"He will be. Right now . . . well, I'm sure it's all in the file, and I don't want to say it wrong and freak you out."

"Right," Janet said, sounding dubious, but she just followed her down to the lab.

Her colonel was waiting in the doorway when she got there. "Well, Carter, why no Daniel?"

"It's hard to explain, sir. He's not well enough to travel."

His eyebrows lowered dangerously, but the general spoke before he could. "Why not? Has he been injured in some way?"

Sam's eyes darted to Samantha, and the other woman paled slightly, obviously waiting for some blow to fall. Sam cleared her throat. "They had to do surgery, sir. The sarc healed him around the shrapnel left by the bomb. Now he's recovering from sarcophagus withdrawals again because –"

"What in the world!?" They all turned at the sudden cry from Janet, who was reading through the file Sam had given her. She looked up to see all of them staring at her, seeming a little discomfited by the trio of Sams in particular. "I'm sorry. I just . . . the things she's giving him to combat the withdrawal symptoms are . . . unorthodox to say the least."

"I did see him, though," Sam said. "He was unconscious, but he seemed fine."

"Yes, it mentions heavy sedation until withdrawals have stopped." Janet still seemed a little dubious as she studied the file.

"So, when do we get him back?" Colonel O'Neill demanded.

"They said I should come back tomorrow at noon with their Daniel and someone capable of carrying our Daniel."

Two voices spoke in unison.

"That would be me."

"I will go."

Colonel O'Neill glared at Teal'c. "No, I got it," he said.

Sam didn't think it was the greatest idea, but she also didn't particularly want to be the one to say it. The other two Sams looked at her with wide eyes. Teal'c opened his mouth to respond, but subsided gratefully when Janet spoke. "Colonel O'Neill," she said, "you have bad knees."

He turned on the doctor, glaring. "I can carry someone if I have to," he declared.

Sam was amused to see that, despite the vast difference in their heights, he totally failed to loom over her. In fact, she seemed almost to loom over him. "Yes, you can," Janet said. "But in this case you don't have to, so you shouldn't." The colonel spluttered helplessly for a moment as Janet turned to the general. "I recommend that Teal'c be sent, sir," she said.

"But – general?" He sounded almost pleading.

The general kept a somber expression and nodded to Janet. "I will, of course, take your recommendation, Dr. Fraiser." The colonel opened his mouth to protest. "Colonel O'Neill, my decision has been made."

The smug look on Teal'c's face wasn't helping the colonel's mood any, so Sam stepped forward. "Well, none of this would have been possible without your help, ladies," she said. "And I'm sure you want to be getting back to your own realities."

"Yes," kid-Sam said, smiling. "I'm glad everything's working out so well." Samantha just smiled shyly, and Sam thought she needed some serious assertiveness training.

Hammond turned. "I agree. I would like to express my appreciation for all the help you have provided, lieutenant, captain. You have made this process considerably easier."

"Well, sir," Samantha said, "I'm only making up in a small way for the crimes perpetrated against you by my people. No thanks are necessary."

Kid-Sam shrugged. "You're welcome," she said. "You'd have done the same for us. And thanks again for taking such good care of our Daniel. He's doing great, and the kids were thrilled to see him."

"That's terrific," the colonel said. "Say hi for us, would you?"

"Sure," kid-Sam said. She fiddled with her controller, getting the mirror activated and set to the appropriate reality. "Well, um . . . bye! We'll be in touch to see how everything turns out."

"Bye," Sam said. They exchanged a quick hug and then Kid-Sam left through the mirror. A moment later it winked out.

Samantha cleared her throat. "Would you tell your Daniel, from me, that he made a big difference in our reality? Things are getting better by leaps and bounds, and it's partly because of the influence he had on me and on the guards that he spoke with and the people who observed him. I mean, all of the Daniels had impact, but yours made the biggest impression, I think."

"You want us to _tell_ him that?" the colonel said incredulously.

Samantha blinked, and Sam could tell that he'd lost her. She wondered how long it had been since her Colonel O'Neill had joked that way with her. "Well, I asked you to, didn't I?" she said.

"He has a big enough head as it is," the colonel replied.

Her eyes snapped. "That man has been through hell," she said, her voice sounding like ground glass. "You don't give him –" Her eyes widened and she flushed scarlet. "I'm sorry . . ."

Sam turned to her colonel to see how he was going to respond. "Hey – I –" he started, seeming floored by her reaction. "Sorry. I was just joking. We'll tell him."

"Good," she said. "I'd better go. I . . . visiting hours start in about fifteen minutes."

Sam walked forward. "Your Jack?" Samantha nodded. Sam gave her a tight hug. "It will be okay," she said, hoping she was right.

Samantha smiled at her, then activated the mirror. "I'll come back the day after tomorrow if that's okay, to see how Daniel is."

Sam glanced back towards General Hammond, who nodded. She smiled at Samantha. "Sure," she said.

Samantha tuned to the right reality, then turned back to Sam. "Take care of your father," she said, then touched the surface and was gone. Sam blinked at the figure retreating in the mirror before the reflective surface winked out.

* * *

"So, does that file tell you anything else about Dr. Jackson's condition, doctor?" asked General Hammond. Jack turned instantly to the doctor, eager to know if there was anything more. He was finding it difficult to contain his frustration and his fury that not only was Daniel not back yet, but he wasn't even going to be permitted to retrieve him.

Fraiser looked up from the pages that were written in close, nearly illegible handwriting. Though since it was hers, in a sense, maybe that wasn't a problem. Jack shook his head. "Currently he's undergoing sarcophagus withdrawals," the doctor said, "but he should be over them sometime late tomorrow or early Saturday morning. Other than that, he's in perfect health, because he came out of the sarcophagus on Tuesday."

"Perfect physical health," Jack said. "What about mental?"

"According to their Dr. Fraiser," Carter said, "sedating them instantly when they come out of the sarcophagus avoids most of the mental difficulties."

"Well, I certainly hope so," Jack said. "I don't want him to decide to shoot me again."

"That's just fussy, sir," Carter said, twinkling.

"Anything else we should know?"

"Well, he's going to come out of this sometime Saturday morning not having moved significantly since Tuesday, so he'll be stiff and somewhat woozy. There are also some notes here about possible PTSD."

"Ya think!" Jack exclaimed.

"Actually, the other Jack mentioned something more specific," Carter said. "Remember how the married Daniel would react to you initially, sir?" she asked Jack. Jack nodded. "Well, apparently our Daniel isn't having that much trouble with the Jack in the alternate reality he's in now. He's having trouble with the Hammond there."

"Is the Hammond there misbehaving in some way?" Jack asked.

"No sir," Carter said, sounding puzzled. "Not as far as I know. I got the impression that Daniel's just having trouble because he's a Hammond and most of what happened to him came from a Hammond."

"That makes me sound like a dinner entree," the general said dryly. Carter blinked and started to babble an apology, but Hammond waved her silent. "So I gather that I'll need to be careful in my behavior around Dr. Jackson."

"At least at first," Fraiser said. "We'll want to help him work through that if it becomes an issue. So, that's all I've got. Dr. Jackson's coming back tomorrow, I need to get an infirmary bed set up for him a little out of the way of the main traffic, since I have a feeling he's going to have someone visiting him around the clock until he's released. I'm going to follow my counterpart's instructions concerning his care unless I see a pressing reason not to, so don't ask me to wake him early, colonel."

Jack glared at her. "As if I would do that," he said. "You're the doctor, you know what's best."

Fraiser gave him a suspicious look. "I'm going to remind you that you said that later."

"Said what?" Jack asked, and Fraiser rolled her eyes with amusement.

"So, let's get things ready for Dr. Jackson's return, people," Hammond said. "O'Neill, I'm going to ask you to tell the other Daniel that he's going home tomorrow."

"Of course, sir," Jack said. He glanced at his watch. He'd been gone for almost two hours. That was probably okay, but he'd better get back and check up on the pair of them. "If you'll all excuse me . . ." He paused as he turned towards the door. "You know, we thanked both the others, but I do have to say, good work, Carter. Really good work." She smiled broadly, and Jack left to impart good news.


	38. Chapter 38

_**Friday, May 14** _ **  
Reality L583**

Jack was hard-pressed to contain his elation when Teal'c came down with a bad case of symbiote flu. It was in bad taste to be happy when a friend was sick, though he wasn't entirely sure he counted Junior among his friends. But Junior being sick made Teal'c sick, so that did affect one of his friends, so it was really not kind or remotely appropriate to be pleased by it.

Jack was still pretty happy, because it meant that Teal'c wouldn't be able to go to the other reality to fetch Daniel. This left one obvious candidate. He put on the appropriate expression of dismay as Fraiser explained the situation to him and General Hammond, but inside he was doing the cha cha. The mildly worried cha cha, since Teal'c's symbiote wasn't supposed to get sick, but Fraiser didn't seem overly concerned.

"Now, that does mean that Teal'c won't be going to the other reality to fetch Dr. Jackson," Fraiser said, and Jack hid his grin. "For one thing, he's not up to it, and for another, we certainly don't want to spread this to their Teal'c."

"Of course," General Hammond said. "But Teal'c will be fine?"

"He assures me that this is something that's not common, but not really worrisome. It happens from time to time and usually requires about twelve to sixteen hours recovery time." She glanced over at the bed where Teal'c was kelnoreeming. "So this leaves the question of who should be sent for Daniel," she said. Jack looked at her, eyes widening, but before he could speak she was continuing. "I thought, perhaps, that Major Feretti could –"

Strangled noises emerged from Jack's throat as he stared at her, appalled.

The general gave him an amused look. "I think that Colonel O'Neill will be able to manage this," he said. Fraiser looked dubious, but she relented. Jack managed to keep himself from letting off a cheer of relief. "Are you ready for Dr. Jackson's return, doctor?" Hammond asked.

"Sam is in the back room now, taping off the space she wants to return to," Fraiser said, starting to walk in that direction. "She says that she believes the device has a failsafe in it to avoid people coming into existence inside each other or solid objects, but she doesn't want to find out the hard way."

"I'm good with that," Jack said.

The hours until noon when they were due to return dragged. Jack went to pick up the Daniel who was going home at 11:30, and found the man still engaged in frenetic grooming. He'd started the process around nine, so Jack was a little surprised. When he heard the door, Daniel looked up. He turned around. "How do I look?" he asked breathlessly.

Jack blinked at him. He suddenly understood just why this Daniel had asked to speak to Carter alone the previous evening. At the time he'd assumed the archeologist had wanted to thank her for her efforts, but this had undoubtedly played some role in the conversation.

He was wearing a very tight t-shirt . . . extremely tight, the sleeves rolled up to reveal well toned muscles, and Jack could swear that he smelled some kind of cologne. He was wearing the usual uniform greens and boots, but his hair . . . Jack thought he must have had a haircut last night or this morning. It was lighter than it had been in spots, and the general style looked something like the one he'd worn when Jack had first met his own Daniel, over three years before.

"You look . . . good," Jack said. "What's that scent?"

Daniel walked over to the dresser and picked up a bottle. "Black, by Kenneth Cole. Sam, your Sam, sent someone out last night to get it for me. She said I needed a little something to bolster my nerves." He grinned nervously. "She was right."

Jack shook his head. "Really, Daniel, you look fine."

"It's been three months. He's not really . . . I mean, he could have . . ." Daniel got a grip on his tongue and forced himself to stop babbling. "Am I wearing too much? I mean, you noticed from across the room? Is it too heavy? Do I smell like I'm trying to cover something up or . . ."

"You smell fine, Daniel," Jack said, marking that down on his list of things never to say again. "So it was Carter's idea?"

"Yeah. I thanked her last night, I know she's got to have been pulling serious midnight oil to have solved this so quickly, and I know she was really doing it to get your Daniel back rather than to get me home, but still, I thought I should thank her. Um . . ." He blinked a couple of times. "Oh, her idea, right. She saw how nervous I was about going back after all this time and she offered to help me out. She got the barber to come by this morning, suggested the highlights . . . do they look okay?"

"They look fine," Jack said. "They look great. Kind of like you did . . ." He paused and shook his head. "Like he did after he came back from Abydos."

"Cool," Daniel said. "That was . . ." He shook his head. "Anyway, so she sent someone to get me some stuff . . . it's a whole line. She said I should take it with me."

"You ready to go?" Jack asked.

Daniel glanced around and started shoving things into a plastic bag marked Nordstrom's. He gave the room a final once over and said, "Sure. I'm ready."

Jack grinned. "I'm sure your Jack's a very lucky guy. So let's go get you back to him."

"Right." Daniel grinned but looked distinctly anxious under the grin.

They headed through the halls to Carter's lab. She looked up when they entered and said, "You look great, Daniel! Really super."

"That's what Jack said." Carter favored him with a look that was both pleased and surprised. He affected not to notice. What was there to be surprised about, though? "Thanks for all the help. You're great."

"No problem, Daniel, really."

"How did he look?" Daniel asked worriedly.

"Tired," Carter said. "Very tired. He was sitting up with our Daniel."

This Daniel bit his lip and started wringing his hands.

"Okay," Jack said. "Stop that. I'm sure his feelings haven't changed. There's nothing to worry about. You look great, you smell great, and he's going to be thrilled to see you." He caught Carter giving him a speculative look and wondered how he was going to dispel whatever insane notion she'd gotten into her head.

"Thanks, Jack," Daniel said.

The door opened and Hammond stuck his head in. "We've got five more minutes, people. Are we ready?"

"We are, sir," Carter said, and Jack nodded. Daniel just looked anxious.

"Then you're good to go as soon as noon rolls around. We'll give you an hour, and then I'll send someone after to find out what's up."

"That shouldn't be necessary," Daniel said. "Sir."

Hammond smiled and put a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "I'm sure it won't, son, but it's best to be cautious." He looked at Jack. "Fraiser's expecting you in the infirmary."

"We'll be there, sir."

Jack didn't know what to expect. He put one hand on Carter's shoulder and one on Daniel's and waited for the switch to happen. The world began to shake oddly and then it snapped into focus and they were elsewhere. There was a Hammond here, too, and a Carter. Daniel surged forward. "Sam!" he exclaimed.

"Daniel!?" She gave him a huge hug and then pulled back. "Is it really you this time?"

"It's really me!" He turned to Hammond. "Sir, I'm sorry it's taken so long."

Hammond was wearing an enormous grin. "Not your fault, son, I'm just glad to have you back." He looked up at Jack and Carter, then back at his Daniel. "Let's get you down to the infirmary. That's where Colonel O'Neill and the other Dr. Jackson are."

Daniel nodded eagerly, casting a nervous glance back at the Carter that was to Jack's left. Jack stepped forward. "Well, I guess I don't exactly have to introduce myself, but . . ."

"Not exactly," Hammond said. "Please, come with us."

The trip was strangely psychedelic. It was like walking through a funny house version of his own base. Things were right, but not completely so. He kept feeling as if he should be looking for threats, too, which made things seem even more bizarre. He was very glad when they reached the infirmary. Daniel walked in first, and he stopped in the doorway to the room as if frozen. Jack gave him a gentle push forward and then saw what had stopped him.

The local version of himself was staring up at Daniel with wide, disbelieving eyes. He rose from the chair beside the bed where Jack's own Daniel was laying still, eyes closed, breathing regularly. There was a moment of stunned immobility on the part of both the local men, then they came together in an embrace that could only be called passionate. It _started_ as a hug, but quickly became something else. Jack shifted sideways and looked away from the intense kiss. It was incredibly disturbing to see himself kissing Daniel, which is what it looked like from his angle. He glanced back and saw the pair of Carters, easily discernable from each other by the expressions on their faces. The local girl looked like she was seeing something out of a sappy movie, his Carter looked frozen with shock. It wasn't as if she hadn't known it was a possibility, so it had to be the fact of seeing it in person that was freaking her out. Hammond, behind them, looked paternally pleased. It was creepy.

Jack turned his back on the joyous reunion and went over to the bed, giving his attention to his Daniel. His color was good, his pulse seemed even enough from the machines. He just wasn't moving. That was creepy, too. Daniel Jackson was a man in constant motion. To see him lying still was just wrong.

"He'll be fine," said a quiet, assured voice that was very familiar. Jack looked up to see a Janet Fraiser gazing up at him sympathetically. She glanced with clear enjoyment at where the other Jack and Daniel had broken apart and were now murmuring endearments.

"He will?" Jack asked.

"I assure you, I've seen this many times, even once before with your Daniel. He will be fine. Tomorrow he'll be shaky on his feet and a little woozy, but he'll be fine."

"Really fine, not Daniel-fine?"

"Colonel, I don't discuss things in terms of Daniel-fine," she said with an amused grin. "And I promise . . . no, I can't really promise . . ." At his raised eyebrow, she just shrugged. "For all I know he does want to shoot you, but if he does, it won't be because of withdrawals."

"Thanks," Jack said. Apparently the Janet Fraisers were all cut from the same cloth, too. "Our Fraiser has a bed waiting for him in this same room in our infirmary. We're supposed to appear in that corner." He pointed at a space that was occupied here with a monitor.

"I see." She wheeled the monitor out of the way, and his Carter came up beside him.

"See, sir, he's fine. He'll be himself in no time."

"I see that, Carter," he said. He turned to the locals. "So, we don't want to interrupt your reunion, and we have our own to plan, so if we can just be going . . ."

"Of course," Hammond said, coming forward. He reached out a hand. "Let me thank you for bringing our Daniel back."

"Thank you for getting our guy out of that mess sooner than we would have managed it." Jack didn't say 'even if you did get him killed' but he couldn't help thinking it. Those three days thinking Daniel was irretrievably dead had been bad. "I guess he really does have nine lives." He looked back down at Daniel. "Okay, so what's the best way for me to pick him up without causing problems?"

"Let me get the IVs ready," Fraiser said.

She started getting him prepped for departure, and the local Jack walked over, his arm around his Daniel's shoulder, and Daniel's arm around his waist. "Thank you both for all your efforts," he said. "Getting Danny here back in one piece means a lot to me. I just wish there hadn't been so much confusion about our pick up of your Daniel."

"Me too," Jack said. "But most of the efforts were Carter's."

"Daniel tells me that you held him together over the last few days," the other O'Neill said. Jack shrugged. "By the way, I'd recommend not calling your Daniel Danny for awhile. He freaked out the first and only time I called him that. Apparently the crazy Jack called him that when he got mixed up about who he was."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jack said. "Anything else?"

"Just be aware, all his emotions are really close to the surface, and he's likely to freak if your Hammond looks at him cross-eyed."

"We're going to work him through that," Jack said. "You two . . . take care of each other." Daniel grinned at him and nodded, cuddling closer to his . . . lover. Jack gulped and said, "So, we ready to go?"

"I think so, colonel."

Fraiser got Daniel and his accouterments all ready, then said, "Wait, do you have bad knees?"

"Not that again," Jack growled. "Look, I'm going to be walking a sum total of three feet in that direction and three feet back. That's assuming that my Dr. Fraiser doesn't have two strong young orderlies with good knees standing by to take him from me the minute I materialize." He shook his head. "You people!"

"Us people?" the local Sam repeated, sounding a little taken aback.

"Fraisers!" Jack growled.

"Oh, yeah," the local O'Neill muttered in agreement, earning a glare from his own diminutive doctor. He cleared his throat, ignoring the glare. "Oh, I promised to stay with him until he woke up, so . . ."

"Don't worry, I'll make your word good," Jack said.

They got Daniel loaded up on him with the satchel of medical supplies and his IVs and went to the appropriate spot in the corner. Carter said, "Thanks." Then she pressed the button and the world shook crazily again.

* * *

**Reality L583**

Everything snapped back into focus and Jack started forward immediately. He lowered Daniel carefully to the bed that was waiting for him. Fraiser went into action instantly, hooking up the monitors, getting the IV back in place on its stand, covering him up . . . it was surreal. The only things missing from this room were the spare Daniel, Jack and Carter. Hammond was here, Fraiser was here, the room was set up identically, including the monitor that Fraiser shoved back into that same spot over the top of the tape as soon as they'd cleared it. Apparently that was where it went.

As soon as Fraiser was done, Jack walked over and sat down on the chair next to the bed. He picked up the top one of the pile of reports he'd left sitting underneath the chair that morning. Hammond was looking askance at him. "The other Jack promised he'd stay beside him till he woke up. I'm going to keep that promise, since he can't."

Hammond nodded, and Sam smiled. "I'll be back by later," she said. "And I'll look in on Teal'c."

"Thanks." Jack got to work on the report, and the others left. He was alone with Daniel. His Daniel. All was on its way to being right with the world again.


	39. Chapter 39

_**Saturday May 15  
** _ **Reality L583**

Daniel blinked, feeling distinctly woozy. His eyes felt kind of gummy, and his mouth tasted sour. He shifted and took in a deep breath. Letting it out in a sigh, he tried to puzzle out how he felt. He'd expected pain, but there wasn't any, and the sort of muzzy he felt didn't feel like analgesics . . . more like some sort of sedation. He actually felt a lot like he had when he had woken up after he died . . .

With that thought, he sat up sharply. His head spun, but he pulled his hospital gown open and looked down at his completely unmarked chest. No stitches, no tape, not the slightest sign that he'd been cut into, but he remembered waking up from the surgery. He remembered pain in the skin of his chest. Shaking his head, baffled, he looked up and around the room. What he saw made him blink in astonishment.

Sam was sitting on a straightback chair, her arms crossed and her head resting against the wall behind her, clearly asleep. It was odd, it was the first time he'd actually seen the Sam from this reality. She was always working in a lab somewhere, according to Jack. Teal'c sat on the floor beside her, deep in kelnoreem.

What were they doing in here? It wasn't as if there'd been any chance of his dying, and he wasn't even their Daniel. Why all the concern?

There was another chair pulled up close to the bed on the other side, but it was empty at the moment. Daniel assumed that it was for Jack. He appeared to be in the small room at the back of the infirmary, and to his relief, he was only hooked up to an IV and a couple of monitors.

He heard the sound of a toilet flushing and a moment later, the door to the bathroom opened and Jack emerged. Daniel opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Jack's eyes widened. "Daniel!" he exclaimed. "You're awake!" This being self-evident, Daniel started to speak, but Jack turned toward the other end of the infirmary. "Fraiser, Daniel's awake!" he called.

Daniel was still blinking in consternation at this unexpected and bizarre behavior on Jack's part when Sam and Teal'c suddenly appeared on his other side. Teal'c was beaming, and Sam started babbling. Daniel couldn't take her words in. For one thing, Jack was talking too, which made understanding either of them difficult. They were all so excited . . . gradually it dawned on Daniel . . .

Janet came around the corner with a great big grin on her face. "Welcome home, Daniel," she said.

It was the first comprehensible thing anybody had said, and Daniel leaned forward, waving the others silent. "I'm home?" he asked. "Really home?"

"Indeed you are, DanielJackson," Teal'c said, looking pleased.

"How?" Daniel asked helplessly. The last he remembered was waking up . . . which Jack had that been? Or had it been a dream? Daniel shook his head. "When? What happened?" He looked down at his bared chest and closed the gown self-consciously. "I did have surgery, didn't I?"

Janet pushed past Sam and Teal'c, who gave way reluctantly. "So we were told," she said, bending down and touching his forehead. "I x-rayed you and found no signs of shrapnel."

Standing behind Janet, Sam winced at the word. So did Daniel. He noticed that he had his hand resting on his chest above his heart and dropped it into his lap. Jack put a hand on his shoulder, and Daniel looked up at him, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "You are home, Daniel," he said earnestly. "We made contact with the reality . . . the gay Daniel's reality . . . while you were unconscious. I guess there was some problem with the surgery . . ." He shrugged. "But we brought you home."

"How . . ." Daniel started. "Why . . ." He grimaced and shook his head. "Explanations can wait. I just . . . I am home, right?" He looked around at all of them, and then up at Jack again. "Really home?"

Jack squeezed his shoulder. "Yes, Daniel. You're home. I swear to you, you are home."

"Just tell me then," Daniel said. "Tell me you don't want to kiss me, okay?" Daniel was only half-kidding, and he waited for the answer, gazing up at the man who looked like . . . who might just be . . . his closest friend.

Jack's eyebrows raised. "Definitely not. No. Ick."

Daniel felt his shoulders relax. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Why?" Jack asked. Daniel's jaw dropped, and Jack seemed to realize he'd said something odd, because he went on hastily. "I mean, not why are you glad, but why do you ask?"

He took in a deep breath. "That was practically the first thing the other Jack did," Daniel said. "It was the first evidence I had that I was in the wrong place. I mean, he's talking to me, telling me how glad he is I'm back, how much he missed me, what a wreck he was . . ." Daniel shrugged. "I thought that was odd, why would you be a wreck? But I didn't worry too much, I was home. Then he planted one on me." They all stared at him for a moment in silence.

"I'll kill him!" Jack burst out, his voice a growl of fury. "He didn't say anything!"

Daniel flinched back at the sudden intense anger. "It was nothing, Jack," he said softly, trying to soothe him. "He thought I was his Daniel." Jack's eyes widened, and Daniel was made a little uneasy by the dismay he saw there. "It was nothing."

Jack shook his head. "Still, he told us what happened when you woke up, and he didn't say one word about kissing you."

Daniel flushed. "Should he have?" he asked soberly. "It's not like it hurt me or anything. I'm sure he was even more embarrassed than I was. I wonder if he's going to tell his Daniel."

"I wouldn't," Jack said.

"I would," Carter said, and they all looked at her. "I mean, why hide it? It's not like he was deliberately unfaithful. Did anyone else know about it?" Daniel nodded. "See, if he learned about it from someone else, it would be worse."

"I don't know, I still don't think I'd want to talk about it."

"I agree with Captain Carter," Teal'c said abruptly. "There is no need for secrecy since no harm was intended."

"Well, it doesn't matter," Daniel said. "It happened, it wasn't the end of the world, and it's not going to happen again." He looked up at Jack. "Or at least it had better not."

"No! Nope, nuh uh, not happening, nothing doing. No way."

"I'm glad to hear it," Daniel replied with a grin. Jack grinned back at him, and Daniel felt suddenly warm all the way through. He was home. He was really home.

Fraiser took over then and started putting him through the whole medical drill. His half-hearted protests that the sarcophagus would have taken care of anything were ignored as he'd expected they would be. As she took him deep into the bowels of the infirmary for some of the more fun tests, Jack called, "We'll be here when she lets you out."

Towards the end of the tests, she pulled out a bunch of syringes which he eyed dubiously. "What's that for?"

"Inoculations. Apparently one of the things they've learned in that other reality from using the sarcophagus repeatedly is that it strips the body of its acquired immunities." He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "In a Goa'uld or a Jaffa, that doesn't really matter, because the symbiote supplies the immunities for the most part, but in an ordinary human, it could pose a whole host of possible problems. So, I'm going to give you all the relevant inoculations."

"Why didn't the Dr. Fraiser there do it?" Daniel asked.

"Apparently she did the first time, when they still thought you belonged to them. But she does it after the withdrawals are over, and she thought it wiser to let me give them to you to maximize the chance that they would be effective in our reality."

"Goody," he said dryly and she gave him a look that was half sympathetic and half amused. Awhile later, he emerged from this with pajamas and a bruised arm. Jack, Sam and Teal'c were waiting in the back room of the infirmary. He sighed and gave the doctor a mild glare. "She won't release me," he said. "But I got these snazzy jammies."

"I don't know how the sedatives are going to affect you over the next few hours," she said. "Are you still feeling woozy at all?"

Daniel groaned. "I'm fine, Janet. I feel perfectly normal."

"I just want to keep you here for observation."

"For how long, doc?" Jack asked.

"Another twenty-four hours," she said. "After that, we'll see how he is." Daniel shrugged and gave in to the inevitable, hitching himself back up on the bed and pulling the head end up so he could sit up comfortably. Fraiser smiled. "Glad to have you back," she said, then returned to the main infirmary.

Daniel leaned back and looked at his teammates. "So, how are you guys?" Sam looked like she'd been pulling all night lab stints again, Teal'c looked abnormally pale and Jack . . . well, Jack just looked like Jack.

"Well, Carter's been working her tail off to get you home and not sleeping enough."

Daniel grinned at her. "Thanks."

"I had help," she said.

"We're getting to that," Jack said. "Teal'c is just getting over a case of symbiote flu."

"The proper term is _malik shar_ ," Teal'c said, and Daniel raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't that . . . didn't you tell me about that once?" Teal'c nodded. "It sounded nasty," Daniel commented.

"It was not pleasant," Teal'c replied. "But it has largely passed. I must undergo kelnoreem more frequently than usual for the next several days, but that is all."

"You okay right now?" Daniel asked.

"I am fine," Teal'c said with one of his elegant nods.

Sam hooked her chair over and sat down again. "And the colonel –" Jack cleared his throat and she broke off, looking curiously at him.

"Yes, Jack?" Daniel asked.

"You're not allowed to die on me any more, okay? It's a new rule that can join all the others."

Daniel snorted. "I thought that was rule number two. Just after 'don't make promises you can't keep to men who carry guns.'"

Jack glared at him. "Well, they've switched," he announced. "Rule one, don't die. Rule two, don't make promises you can't keep to men who carry guns. Rule three, don't wander off without an escort. Rule four –"

"I think I've got them written down in my office, Jack," Daniel said. "I'll make sure to switch numbers one and two to accommodate the change."

Jack nodded sharply, then, to Daniel's surprise, gave him a huge hug. Daniel returned it with interest, very glad to be home. After a moment, Jack pulled away. "So, remember that," he said. "No dying. It's not allowed."

"It wasn't my idea," Daniel said, his pleasure dampened by the memory. "And I didn't do anything to cause it this time. For once."

"It must have been awful," Sam said.

"It was." Daniel took a deep breath. "The three of you were there, or I thought it was you, and I asked about the bomb . . . then I felt this strange sort of whump in my chest and then . . . nothing. But I knew what it had to be, so I died knowing Hammond had killed me and that there was no way I could be resuscitated."

"God, Daniel," Jack said, his voice breaking. Sam clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with horror. Teal'c . . . Daniel had never seen Teal'c quite so taken aback.

"Sorry," he said, feeling guilty for freaking them all out. "I guess I – I shouldn't –"

"No," Jack said. "No, tell us what happened. Don't try to soften it for us. We need to know."

"And you need to talk about it," Sam said. Teal'c nodded gravely.

Daniel shrugged. "It's . . . I don't really . . ." He looked away from their worried faces and saw Hammond standing in the doorway. The bottom of his gut dropped out and he felt his whole body stiffen.

Sam leaned forward. "Daniel, all the color just drained out of you. Are you in pain or something?"

Following Daniel's gaze, Jack turned to see what it was. Hammond looked stunned and Daniel struggled to regain control of himself because it was ridiculous. His Hammond had never been anything but fatherly towards him, and he wasn't the insanely greedy man the other one was.

But the unexpected sight of the man still struck him dumb and terrified.

Hammond grimaced. "I'm sorry, son, I'll come back later."

As he started to back out of the room, Daniel grabbed Jack's arm. Jack turned back to look at him and said, "Sir, I think he wants you to stay."

Hammond turned back and Teal'c got him a chair, pulled up close to the bed beside Jack. Daniel took deep breaths and finally got his emotions back under control. "I'm sorry, general," he said. "I just wasn't expecting to see you at that moment, and . . . I think the other guy liked surprising me."

"I should have announced myself," Hammond said. "I'm sorry I startled you like that."

Daniel abruptly realized that he still had a solid grip on Jack's arm and let go. He let out a shuddering breath. "I think it . . . it may take some time for me to get back to normal," he said.

"Do I freak you out?" Jack asked.

"No," Daniel said. "But . . ." His mind kicked into overdrive. Back there. Back in that other reality. What had happened? How was Jack? How was Samantha? Did they have a new Daniel? What were they doing? He had to go back. But he couldn't . . . he didn't . . .

His racing thoughts were interrupted by Jack's voice and his hand gently shaking him. "Daniel? Hey, space monkey, where'd you go?"

"Sorry, we've . . . I've . . . something's got to be done. By now Hammond . . . the other Hammond . . . he almost has to have found a way to get someone to get a new Daniel, and it can't be allowed to go on. There has to be a way to stop him. He has to be stopped. You have no idea . . . no idea at all what he's like! He's . . ."

"Easy, son," Hammond said gently, reaching forward and putting a hand on Daniel's. "Their version of me is dead. He died almost the same moment . . ." He paused and exchanged a glance with Jack. "Well, just after you left."

Daniel stared at the general, not really seeing him, trying to take in his words. "He's dead? How?"

No one spoke for a moment, then Hammond said, "Their O'Neill killed him." Daniel focused back on the man in front of him in shock. "I gather that he and Lt. Carter had been called into the office for some reason. Then the other Hammond was made aware of the rescue party and . . ."

"And I died," Daniel said, his mouth dry with the memory.

"And the other O'Neill killed his General Hammond," Jack finished. "Not a moment too soon, I might add."

Daniel nodded, feeling numb. He was dead. The mad, greedy bastard was dead. "Are you saying he killed him because he'd killed me?"

"Yes," Sam said. Daniel turned to her. "Samantha came here. After Makepeace took command, she started trying to get all the Daniels back to where they belonged. We thought you were dead still, at that point, but there was a reality they couldn't communicate with because the mirror had been destroyed, and the Daniel that belonged there needed somewhere to go when . . ." She shook her head. "The multitudes of Daniels are hard to find words to talk about."

Daniel shook his head, unable to take it all in. "Samantha was here?" he asked. "You've all met Samantha?"

Sam nodded. "She helped us find you. The Daniel who belonged with the people who tried to rescue you –"

"The gay Daniel," Jack put in by way of identification. Daniel nodded and Sam glowered.

"Yes, him," she said, looking irritated. "He told her and us that they had a sarcophagus and that they would bring you back as soon as they got home."

"So how long did you think I was dead?"

They all looked like they were calculating. All but Jack, who answered immediately. "Not quite three days," he said.

Daniel blinked. "So you found out I was alive at about the same time I did," he said.

"We found out you might be alive," Jack corrected.

"How was Samantha the last time you saw her?" he asked.

"Very glad to know you were still alive," Sam said, smiling. "Without her and the Sam from the reality where . . . um . . . the Daniel who was dumped here was from . . . I couldn't have done it. We would have gotten you back, but it would have taken a lot longer."

"It took three Sams working together to get me home?" Daniel asked incredulously. "Wow."

"It was frightening," Jack said confidentially. "They'd start talking and I'd understand one word in three."

Sam glared at him, but then Teal'c nodded and said, "Indeed."

Daniel laughed. "Just imagine the jokes they'd be making if it had been three Daniels." She nodded and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, looking like she was plotting revenge. Daniel was ready to crow with relief. He was home. Really, really home. "You know, I still haven't met any other Daniels?"

"Maybe you'll get the opportunity later," Sam said. "We're keeping contact with some of the alternate realities we encountered."

"I doubt it," Jack replied, and Daniel looked at him curiously. "I doubt any of them are going to let their Daniels leave their own realities in the foreseeable future. I know I'm not."

Daniel grinned. He was about to ask another question when Janet came in in full Napoleonic mode. "Okay, I think my patient needs rest and several of the rest of you haven't been getting adequate rest either. Sam, there's a bed waiting for you in the barracks. Take it."

Looking distinctly cowed by Janet's commanding air, Sam stood up, gave him a hug and said, "I'll be back later, I promise." Then she left.

Janet turned to her next victim. "Teal'c, you told me you'd spend fifteen minutes with Daniel, then get back to bed. It's been more than a half hour."

"I am fine," Teal'c said, but Daniel could see he wasn't.

"You may be fine," Jack replied, "but Junior has the sniffles." Teal'c looked affronted by this less than respectful way of describing the ailment. "Go sort it out."

"Very well," Teal'c said. He looked at Daniel. "It is indeed good to have you back, DanielJackson."

"It's good to be back," Daniel said. Teal'c nodded at him and left.

Hammond had already risen. "I think I'll avoid discovering just what she's going to accuse me of," he said with a trace of amusement. He reached out and squeezed Daniel's hand. "I'll be by later, son. I'm very glad you're home and in one piece."

Daniel nodded. "I'm glad to be home, sir," he said, squeezing back. Hammond nodded at Janet and left.

"Colonel O'Neill, you also have a bed waiting for you in the barracks."

"What?" Jack exclaimed and Daniel bit his lip. Were they going to leave him alone? He . . . he was only just realizing how little he wanted that. But what could he say that wouldn't make him sound like some kind of twit?

"You haven't been getting good rest of late either," she said. "You know he's safe, you know where he is. Go get some rest."

Jack glanced to Daniel's left. "That's a bed right there," he said.

Janet nodded with exaggerated patience. "Yes, Colonel O'Neill, very good, but that's a bed for sick people."

"Doc, I happen to know that you have one patient other than Daniel, and that you'll use that bed only as a last resort because Daniel's in here." Janet stood looking at him with her arm crossed, not budging. Jack let out a patently fake sounding cough. "Besides . . ." He fake-coughed again. "I feel a cough coming on."

"If you're coughing, you'll keep Daniel awake," she said, glancing over. Daniel had no idea what she saw in his expression, but her eyes widened. "So quit the fake coughing and remember to take your boots off before you lie down."

"Yes ma'am," he said, and he remained standing until she left. Then he sat down again and pulled his chair closer to Daniel. "Do you want to sleep?" he asked.

"Not really," Daniel said. "I mean, I'm a little tired, but I don't particularly want to go back to sleep again." He'd had a few too many unexpected things happen to him when he was sleeping lately. This most recent one was a nice surprise, but . . . he didn't want to wake up and find out it was a dream.

Jack seemed to see right through to the heart of the difficulty. "You will be here when you wake up and so will I," he said. "And the only thing that will have changed is that you'll be less sleepy."

"Right."

"And you'll probably have to pee," Jack added. "And you'll start asking for coffee."

"Thank you, Jack, that's very reassuring," Daniel said.

"I'm glad to hear it, but Fraiser's right. You do need rest."

Daniel was suddenly having trouble keeping his eyes open. "I want to go home," he said.

"You are home."

"No, Jack, not home, my reality; home, my apartment."

"Oh, that kind of home."

Daniel nodded sleepily. "Fraiser has it her way tonight, but I want to go home tomorrow night. I want to go outside and see the sky and flowers and trees and dogs and birds and people not wearing uniforms." He blinked up at Jack. "Do I have any ordinary clothes on base? I should, I guess, I changed when I got here all those weeks ago."

"You want me to make sure they're handy when the doc releases you?" Jack asked.

"I'd really appreciate it," Daniel replied. "I haven't worn anything but fatigues or pajamas in weeks, and I'm sick of green and black."

"I'll send someone to get them."

"Jack, don't leave me alone, okay?" Daniel said. "I . . . I won't believe I'm home if I'm alone when I wake up."

"You won't be alone, Daniel," Jack said. "Now go to sleep."

Obediently, he lowered the head of the bed and closed his eyes.

* * *

Jack watched Daniel go to sleep, frankly worried. He was back, he was safe, he was in good health as far as Fraiser could tell, but emotionally it was harder to judge. His reaction to Hammond wasn't unexpected, but it had clearly upset both men. It seemed to have dampened somewhat the longer they were in the same room together, but who knew what would happen the next time Hammond got mad at Daniel?

He shook his head. The way he'd instantly started trying to soothe Jack out of his anger had also been a bit alarming. Daniel had always been defensive of others, and he usually tried to make Jack calm down, but he'd gone white around the lips and been very tense until Jack's tone had moderated.

When it looked like the archeologist was actually asleep and not just lying there with his eyes closed, Jack got up from his chair, kicked off his boots and lay down on the second bed.

He'd just have to keep any eye on things, like always.


	40. Chapter 40

**Sunday, May 16  
** **Reality L583**

Daniel stretched and blinked. He sat up and looked around him suspiciously. It was the infirmary, but was it home? Had that all been a dream? He'd had enough dreams of waking up at home to be uncertain.

There was Jack, lying on the second bed, snoring gently. It still wasn't proof. The gay Jack had promised to stay with him till he awoke. That could be him, waiting. He looked over at the other man, contemplating. He reached out and grabbed the tissue box on the bedside table. He tossed it across so that it hit Jack in the chest and slid off onto the floor.

"Wha –" Jack sat up and blinked at him. "Yes, Daniel?"

"Do you want to kiss me?" Jack's eyes narrowed and he made a sound expressive of disgust. "Good."

"Was that a test of some kind?" Jack asked blearily.

"Yes."

"Did I pass?"

"Yup."

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Sure." Jack lay back down and Daniel laced his fingers together behind his head, feeling extremely satisfied. Then a thought occurred to him, and he sat up again. "Jack!"

Jack sat up again and looked at him sourly. "What?" he asked.

"Do you not want to kiss me because you know I'm not your Daniel, or am I really home?"

Jack stared at him for a long moment and then got up. He crossed to Daniel's side. "You are home, Daniel." He reached out and took Daniel's hand. "Really and truly, you're home." Daniel felt his eyes fill with tears and he pulled his knees up and hid his face. "Daniel? Daniel!" There was a pause and Daniel waited for Jack to go find Sam or Janet or someone to help him deal. A moment later, he felt the bed shift and Jack's arms closed around him. "It's okay, Daniel, you're home."

Daniel relaxed into the embrace and let himself cry. All the pent up fears and worries, the terror he'd had to suppress even when in the second reality, flooded through him. He turned and wept into Jack's chest, and the older man murmured reassurances. Finally, the storm of tears was over . . . for now . . . and after a silence during which Jack didn't move away or ease his hold, Daniel said, "I'm sorry."

"What for, space monkey?" Jack asked.

"I don't usually get like this."

"You've been held prisoner for more than a month, and then the people who rescued you turned out not to be who you thought they were. I'd be a little worried if you were calm and normal."

Daniel snorted. "No, that I'm not going to be. Not for awhile." He sighed. "Is there any chance I can get out of here, wander a bit, verify that things are where I think they should be?"

"Sure, but I thought you didn't want to be alone."

A surge of panic went through his gut, and he spoke more forcefully than he intended. "I don't!" He took a deep breath. Pushing himself to speak calmly, he added. "I would welcome your company, but I want to decide where we wander."

"Sure," Jack said easily. He squeezed Daniel tightly and then let go. "Let me go get Fraiser."

Daniel nodded and got off the bed. He went to the bathroom and when he came out, Janet and Jack were having a heated conversation in low voices.

"– twenty-four hours of observation. We haven't reached that point yet."

"He needs to get out of this room and feel like he's free, doc." Jack shook his head. "He's had enough of being cooped up, and I don't blame him."

Daniel walked forward. "Honestly, Janet, I feel fine, and I won't go anywhere alone. If I start feeling odd or wobbly, Jack will bring me right back to you." He looked at Jack. "Right?"

"Right," Jack said instantly. "Come on, doc," he added in a wheedling tone.

Janet, looking very put upon, sighed. "All right. Get a shower and get dressed. Go." She looked up at Jack. "And be sure you bring him back before you leave the base."

Jack was about to reply when Daniel beat him to it. "You know, Janet," he said acerbically, "I am here, able to hear and fully capable. Don't you think you should be addressing remarks about my health towards me?"

Fraiser flushed and gulped. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I just . . . I'm sorry."

Daniel dropped his eyes, then looked up, clearly embarrassed by his outburst. "I'm sorry, too. I think I'm just a little sensitive about control issues right now."

Fraiser put her hands on his shoulders. "I can't imagine why," she said dryly. "Go, get showered and changed. That will help, I'm sure."

He nodded and, taking the small stack of civilian clothes with him, he went into the bathroom. Jack looked down at Fraiser. "We're going to have to be careful around him for awhile, I think. Any hint of restraint or domination will be . . ." He couldn't find the right words. 'Poorly received' seemed inadequate at best.

"I understand," Fraiser said hastily. "But don't be too careful. He won't thank you for babying him either."

"I just love that balancing act," Jack said.

"Well, you enjoy yourself, then," Fraiser said with a sympathetic grin. "I've got some patients who are actually injured or sick, so I'll get back to my duties."

"How's Teal'c?"

"Back in his own rooms. He said that the constant beeping was interfering with his kelnoreem."

"And you bought it?"

"And I had a choice? I don't know anything about Jaffa rituals."

Jack snorted. "I know what you mean. Don't worry about Daniel, doc. I'll take good care of him."

"See that you do."

With that directive in mind, Jack set about his own ablutions so that he'd be ready when Daniel came out, which he did in fairly short order, wearing brown pants and a shirt with a plaid pattern in blues and browns on a white background. "Much better," he said. "I feel like a person with an existence outside the military. There's nothing quite like being told you have no legal existence to make you feel . . . I don't know . . . helpless . . . powerless . . . screwed."

"No legal existence," Jack repeated, shaking his head.

"Well, their Daniel Jackson was legally dead and buried. I was . . . I don't know what I was. People clearly knew I was there, just . . ." He shuddered and turned to Jack. "Did you like the me that came here? Was he nice? I know he was competent."

"Yes, I liked him. Yes, he was nice. How did you know he was competent?"

"The second task they gave me was something he'd been in the middle of when . . ." He shook his head. "So I saw what he'd done, and it was more than competent. He had some things more on the ball than I did."

"No one could ever replace you, Daniel," Jack said, suddenly understanding the abrupt change in direction the conversation had taken. "He was nice, but he wasn't our Daniel." Daniel looked marginally convinced, so Jack decided to change the subject. He had visions of having to repeatedly tell his friend that he wasn't replaceable, no matter what that Hammond might have said to him. Or that Jack. "Shall we go?"

"Sure," Daniel said, and he led the way out of the infirmary. He didn't exactly wander. It was more of a directed exploration. He checked out the room that had been a records room in the gay Jack reality, looked in a couple of other rooms, then headed down to the storeroom that had been his prison for so long in the other reality.

He stood in front of the door for several minutes. Jack stood with him, wondering what he should do. Was this a good idea? Did he have any right to stop him? Assuming he had the right, would it be wise to try?

Reaching forward abruptly, Daniel opened the door and walked in. Jack followed. The room was wall to wall shelving units, all piled with things like paper and pens and other office type supplies. Jack looked around it and was appalled anew by just how small a space it was to live in for a month.

At the back of the room, there was another door Jack had never noticed. Daniel threaded his way back there and opened it with Jack close behind. Inside was just more storage. No sign of plumbing, nothing. Daniel walked into the middle of the room and turned around in a circle, looking at the walls and the shelves and the stuff. Jack wondered what he was seeing.

"This doesn't look like a bathroom, does it?" Daniel asked after a moment or so. "It doesn't feel like one either."

"No, it doesn't."

"The tub was here." He gestured along the wall to the right of the door. "The sink straight ahead with the toilet next it, just there." Jack looked where he pointed. Daniel turned around to face him. "I have no idea where the other suite of rooms was, because I never left it."

"I know where it was," Jack said. "Maybourne told us," he added to answer Daniel's questioning look. "But there's nothing there to see."

"Are there rooms?"

"Just one, big and echoing, like a warehouse."

Daniel shook his head. "He was utterly without conscience," he said. "He wasn't interested in anything beyond alien technology and his own importance."

"Hammond?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. I met, to talk to, only seven people there. Their Jack, Kowalski, Samantha, General Hammond, Dr. Warner, Major Coburn, and a nurse whose name I didn't learn. I saw Lt. Berman, Airman Solomon, and several nameless airmen." He knit his brows. "Actually, I talked to one of the nameless airmen and to Solomon. Solomon got me out of the tub when I'd fallen asleep, and the other guy was in there the second time I was drugged, to keep me from doing anything too crazy, I think."

"The second time you were drugged?"

Daniel nodded. "The first time was when they took me for the surgery." He made an odd sort of gesture, reaching under his left arm. After a moment, Jack realized what he must be doing, touching the place where the incision had been, and rage threatened to overwhelm him. "The second was when they changed my accommodations. I'm not sure if they were worried that I'd make a fuss, but I know that Hammond saw it as an opportunity to demonstrate his complete power over me." Daniel gulped. "It was very effective."

"Well, he's dead now, so he's not in charge over there. He can't ever do it again."

"And Jack won't, I don't think. He was regaining his grip on reality there at the end. He was asking questions, like what you were like and how did our relationship work."

Jack looked at Daniel's face and took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy. "He's . . . he's not going to be doing much for awhile, either, so I'm told."

"They didn't arrest him, did they?" Daniel asked, concern showing in every line of his face. "He's not in prison?"

Jack shook his head. "No, he's not. He's . . . he's catatonic."

Daniel's jaw dropped at he stared at him. "What? Why? Was it the drugs? What happened?"

"Apparently it happened immediately after he killed Hammond." Daniel started shaking his head, eyes wide with dismay. "They'll help him, Daniel. I'm sure he'll be –"

"It was because I died," Daniel said. "He was so distressed over the whole idea of me dying that when I did, it must have snapped him."

Jack nodded. "It didn't do me any good, either," he said. "Daniel, there's nothing you can do."

"But there is!" Daniel turned desperate eyes on him. "I can go back, and show him I'm not dead. That might make it easier for him to come out of it. It might make it possible."

"No." Jack shook his head. "Absolutely not. You are not going back there."

"Jack, you don't understand. He's a good man who was driven insane by drugs and unbelievable pressures."

"He beat up on his Daniel regularly, and you can't tell me that was only because of the drugs because Samantha as good as said it wasn't."

"It wasn't, but it takes two to create a relationship like that. Danny was as much to blame for it as he was."

"What?!" Jack stared at him. "How can you possibly blame the other Daniel?!" He stared at his friend in shock and amazement.

"Jack, what do you think I would do if we came back from a mission and you slugged me because I'd put myself in danger?"

"You'd . . ." Jack shook his head. "I thought I knew."

"Tell me what you thought."

"You'd go to Fraiser and see if there was something wrong with me. You sure as hell wouldn't put up with it."

"Damn straight. It takes the victim of the abuse accepting it and not doing anything to stop it to allow that kind of relationship to continue."

"That doesn't even make sense. If some jackass is smacking you around, why would you not stop it?"

"Because it doesn't start that way, Jack. It starts with subtle things, like . . ." Daniel shook his head. "Say we came back from a mission where I did something you'd call stupid –"

"I can easily imagine that," Jack said, pursing his lips.

"Good," Daniel replied, raising an eyebrow. "Glad to hear that your imagination isn't atrophied. Now, you're angry because I scared you, and you grab my arm hard and shake me a bit. What do I do then?"

Jack stared at him. "I'd never do that."

"No, I know," Daniel said, his patience with an obtuse and obstinate pupil extremely evident. "That's not the point. Do you think I'd go to Fraiser then? Particularly if I felt a little guilty for scaring you?" Jack didn't like the direction this was taking. "And maybe I thought I'd done something stupid, too, so when you grabbed me and shook me, I thought 'he's entitled to be upset.'"

"Daniel, you're not serious," Jack protested.

"I am." Daniel looked at him soberly. "Have you ever been in an abusive relationship?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, I have, so I know what it feels like from the inside. I just got out of mine quickly enough and early enough that it didn't warp my expectations. I don't think either that Jack or that Daniel did."

"I can't – when were you abused?"

"What makes you think I was the victim?" Daniel asked, sounding a little offended.

Jack shook his head. "Daniel, don't be a doofus. When?"

"That's not really relevant," he said defensively. "The point is, that both of them worked together to build that unhealthy situation. You can't lay it all on . . . on that Jack."

"Regardless, you're not going back there."

"Jack, he's catatonic." Jack steeled himself against the appeal in Daniel's voice. "Just imagine what that's got to be doing to Samantha." That was a low blow, but Jack crossed his arms and hung on. "Those are the two people closest to her in the world. Her father's dead, I didn't hear her speak about her brother once, her Daniel's dead and her Jack is catatonic." Jack grit his teeth. "You have no idea how much she helped me get through that horror. Without her, it would have been ten or twenty times worse." Those eyes were just not fair. Daniel was gazing at him imploringly and Jack felt himself start to waver. "If I can help, I need to try."

"We'll see what Hammond has to say," Jack said finally, knowing that he could count on Hammond not to be affected by Daniel's puppy dog eyes.

"Then let's go talk to him," Daniel said, and he marched out of the storeroom past Jack with urgency in his stride.

"Daniel!" Jack called, following him. "Daniel?" The other man did not pause until he was forced to wait for the elevator. "Daniel, this is crazy. They have their problems, we have ours. We don't owe them anything."

"I owe Samantha a lot," Daniel said flatly. "She made that hell bearable."

"I get that, Daniel, but . . ." He shook his head. "Damn it, Daniel, it's another flippin' reality! You don't owe her anything. She participated in your kidnapping. She owed you!" Daniel was standing there, his arms crossed, looking at the elevator doors as if willing them to open. "That's how it worked. That's how she viewed it, I know it is."

The doors opened, and they started forward into the empty elevator. "Cut it out, Jack. You said we were going to let Hammond decide."

"I didn't say I wouldn't keep trying to persuade you that you don't need to do this."

"I need to reassure Samantha that I'm okay, too. She hasn't seen me, and the last she could possibly have heard about me, I was unconscious and undergoing treatment for withdrawals from my second trip to the sarcophagus since the last time she saw me, less than a week ago. And, if I understood correctly, the last time she saw me was on a video monitor, dying of an exploded heart. Somehow, that's not the way I want her to remember me."

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Jack demanded.

Daniel shrugged. "I'm guessing, from what I've heard, that it's a trait of Daniel Jacksons everywhere. You might as well ask why the sky is blue or why grass is green."

"Fine, then. Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green?"

"Because it's their nature."

The doors opened, and before Jack could frame a response, Daniel strode forward again, not waiting for him. Jack followed after, pushing his way past those who wanted to enter the elevator to keep up with him. "That's an evasive non-answer!" Jack called. Daniel didn't respond. "Daniel, this isn't reasonable."

"Yes, it is," Daniel said with absolute certainty.

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't."

"Glad to see you two back to normal," said Feretti as he came abreast of them. Jack glowered at him. "Hi, Daniel. You are our Daniel, right?"

"Oh yeah, Lou," Daniel said with a grin. "It's me. It's good to be back."

"We missed you," Feretti said. "Where are you two headed?"

"To Hammond's office," Daniel replied.

"Well, then, I'll see you later. Deirdre will want you to come to dinner soon, so let me know when would be good."

"I will."

When Feretti had walked away, Jack felt as if his momentum had gone. "Daniel, this –"

"You already said it was up to Hammond, Jack," Daniel said, sounding a little weary. "Let's leave it that way."

Jack began to grow uneasy. Daniel didn't sound up to his usual level of pushing back, and Jack was pushing pretty hard. Good reason or no good reason, it made no difference. If Daniel wasn't up to it, Jack needed to lay off. He also seemed to think he had an ace up his sleeve somehow with Hammond, and if he did, Jack was in trouble.

* * *

Daniel wasn't nearly as confident as he was portraying himself to Jack. Hammond would probably nix this instantly, but he damned well had to try. Samantha was a good person who'd been caught up in a wretched situation, and she deserved a little slack. And that Jack deserved a better fate than catatonia.

Hammond's secretary called in, and within minutes they were in the general's office. Daniel found himself dry-mouthed in the man's presence again. "Dr. Jackson, what I can I do for you?" the general asked with a fatherly smile. The expression brought him closer to ease than anything else could. The other Hammond had never once smiled at him in a way that didn't make his flesh creep.

"Daniel has an utterly preposterous suggestion, sir," Jack said abruptly as Daniel opened his mouth to reply.

Daniel saw Hammond's brows draw together in irritation as he turned to Jack. "Why don't you let Dr. Jackson speak for himself, colonel?" he said.

Daniel glanced up at Jack who shrugged and looked bad-tempered. Clearing his throat, he turned back towards the general. "Jack just told me that the other Colonel O'Neill, the one in Samantha's reality –"

"The one who kidnapped him," Jack added, as if to make it abundantly clear just who Daniel meant.

"Yes, him," Daniel said with an annoyed glance at Jack. "I gather he's catatonic, and I want to do something to help."

Hammond nodded. "I see, but what could you do?"

That wasn't a good sign, since it seemed perfectly obvious to him what needed to be done. Daniel cleared his throat again. "I want to go see him." The general's eyes widened, and Daniel hastened to explain further. "It sounds like he went catatonic because he saw me die. If he sees me again, alive and well, maybe that will bring him out of it."

Hammond's face creased with thought. "I'm not sure just how much good that would do, son," he said. "It's not as if you could stay." Jack made an impatient noise of agreement.

"I know that, but he was coming to sanity again towards the end. I think he'd understand that I had to go, and even if he didn't, I feel like I have to try. Poor Samantha's over there with her family torn asunder. Her father's dead of cancer, her Daniel's dead, her Jack is catatonic and her Kowalski is a violent ass whose redeeming qualities, I would guess, have been burned away by drugs. All she's got left is Maybourne."

The general leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. "I don't know, Dr. Jackson. You've been back for less than forty-eight hours. I'm not comfortable with the idea of sending you out again."

"Hear hear!" Jack said.

Daniel glared up at him and then crossed his arms. "It's not like I'd go alone, or like I'd be gone for long." Hammond still looked dubious. "I really feel strongly about this, sir. Samantha wasn't in on the kidnapping, just my imprisonment, and there wasn't much she could do about that, in all fairness to her." He looked up at Jack, who looked away. "What she could do, she did, and she helped get me home again sooner than one Sam working alone could have. Whatever Jack says, I feel I owe her a debt."

"You owe her nothing, Daniel!" Jack exclaimed loudly. "General, tell him."

"I'm afraid I agree with Colonel O'Neill on that, son," Hammond said, and Daniel grimaced.

Something occurred to him abruptly, another, possibly more convincing argument. "But then there's the Teal'c from that reality. He helped me without any hope of gain, without any reason beyond a sense that Hammond was a bad guy and I wasn't. Someone should make an effort to make sure he's treated well."

Hammond pursed his lips. "Though I understand your desire to help, I really don't think it's a good idea for you go back there, certainly not so soon."

"But sir, I –" Daniel broke off. The sad look on Hammond's face was enough to tell him he wasn't going to get anywhere.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jackson. Come back in a couple of weeks if you still want to do this, and we'll talk again." He paused. "How are you feeling?"

Daniel shrugged. "Very frustrated," he said. "And kind of lost. And, forgive me, but like the mountain is the last place on earth I want to be."

"Well, then, Dr. Jackson, go home, and if you would like some time off, you're welcome to it."

That suggestion made Daniel realize how much work there had to be built up for him, and he was dismayed by his internal reaction. The idea of going anywhere near his office, doing any translation or interpretation or anything made him want to scream and run in the other direction. "I can leave? It's okay?"

"Of course you can leave, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said, his eyes growing concerned. "I just hope you don't mean permanently."

"No!" Daniel replied hastily. "I just . . . I want to go someplace where there are no men with guns. For awhile."

"Does that mean I can't bring mine?" Jack asked, and Daniel turned to him in surprise.

"Are you coming?" he asked in surprise.

"With the general's permission."

"Actually, that was going to be my one request, Dr. Jackson, that you keep someone with you until we're certain that there will be no lingering effects of your long residence in an alternate reality." He blinked. "In more than one alternate reality. If you are both comfortable with Colonel O'Neill staying with you, I will arrange for you both to have indefinite leave time."

Daniel looked at Jack, and then nodded. "That would be fine, sir," he said.

"Works for me," Jack replied. "As long as there's Froot Loops," he added. "We have to have Froot Loops."

"I can do that," Daniel said with a grin. He looked up at Jack and then over at the general. "I don't suppose Teal'c could come over to my place for dinner tonight?"

"I imagine that could be arranged," Hammond said. "What about Captain Carter?"

Daniel blinked. "She doesn't need your permission to leave the base, sir. I thought I'd just ask her."

"Oh," Hammond said, looked somewhat abashed. "Of course."

"Thank you, sir," Daniel said. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

The general's eyes took on a glassy look and he smiled up at Daniel. "Son, there was never the slightest chance we'd give up on you."

Daniel felt his own eyes fill, and he had to get away. He nodded his thanks and left, hoping the general would understand. Jack followed him to the elevator where Daniel stopped, suddenly realizing that he had no idea where he wanted to go. His office was out of the question. If he saw a pile of translations waiting for his attention, he'd never manage to get away.

"Why don't we head to Carter's lab?" Jack suggested.

Daniel nodded and when the elevator came, he hit the right button. Sam was bent over a keyboard, and from the image on the monitor he guessed she was doing some kind of modeling. "Just a minute," she said, then hit a couple of keys and turned around. She smiled brightly when she saw them. "Daniel! How are you?" Crossing the space between them she hugged him tightly.

"Good," he said, smiling over her shoulder. "You?"

"Glad to have you back." She squeezed and then let go. "You look exhausted," she said.

"Thanks," Daniel said sarcastically.

"No, I'm sorry, but you do."

"Well, Hammond's giving me indefinite leave," he said. "And I'm going home in probably an hour or so, but I wanted to ask you to dinner tonight."

"Sure," she said. "That'd be great."

"Good." Daniel grinned. "Well, I'd better go see if Teal'c is conscious."

"Should I bring anything?"

"A good Merlot," Jack said before Daniel could respond. "I'm going to make London broil, if that meets with your approval, Daniel?"

"That would be fine," Daniel said. "I doubt I have anything worth eating in the house. Did you . . ."

"I did," Jack confirmed. "You have a few things in the freezer, and cans in your cupboards, but beyond that, not a hell of a lot."

"Then that would be great." Daniel took in a deep breath. "So, Sam, we'll see you tonight. Will you bring Teal'c?"

"Sure thing. Should we stop and get dessert?"

Daniel glanced at Jack who seemed to have taken over planning the menu. Not that Daniel actually objected . . .

"Go for it," Jack said. "We'll let Teal'c know he has to choose a dessert."

"See you tonight then."

They delivered the invitation to Teal'c and then went down to the parking lot. "You want to take your car or take mine?"

"We can come back for mine later if we need it," Daniel said. "I don't really want to be alone. I mean, I've got a sofa. It's not too uncomfortable."

"I know, Daniel, I've slept on it a time or two." Jack shook his head. "Come on, space monkey. Truck's over here."

They staged a quick raid on the grocery store, Jack style, zipping up and down aisles as quickly as they could go, grabbing what was needed and then heading to the counter to check out. Once at his place, Daniel fed his fish and checked his appalling load of messages. "You didn't return my videos, Jack!" he called when he'd heard the sixth message regarding his mounting late fees.

Jack emerged from the kitchen, his hands covered in meat juices. "I had a few other things on my mind," he growled. "Besides, how was I supposed to know you had rentals?"

Daniel pointed at the entertainment center. "The Blockbuster boxes should have been a good hint." Jack waved him off in irritation and went back into the kitchen. "I owe sixty-seven dollars now on this one on the Panama canal."

"You can afford it!" Jack called back. "Besides, who the hell _rents_ documentaries? You _watch_ documentaries, you _tape_ documentaries. You don't _rent_ them."

Daniel snorted and kept listening to his messages. When he was done, he had several pages of people to call and explain his absence to. That was going to be fun. He got up and wandered through the apartment. His own furniture, placed where he wanted it, his own junk on the shelves, books and papers lying where he'd left them. Windows out into the day outside. It was heaven to be home again.

"Hey, Daniel? Can you come in here and cut the carrots up for me?"

Happily, Daniel went back to the kitchen, washed his hands, and followed Jack's instructions for food preparation.

Jack watched Daniel chop the carrots and potatoes for the side dishes and smiled to himself. It was good to have his little brother back home. That was what it really felt like, he thought. He'd never had any siblings, so he didn't have anything to compare it against, but there was a special bond between them that he didn't know how to express beyond equating it to brotherhood.

Right now he wasn't sure how Daniel would react to him expressing it that way, though, not after the overbearing brother-ness of the other Jack. He was also a little alarmed by this hint of abuse in Daniel's past that he didn't want to talk about. If that had been a brother figure . . .

He certainly seemed comfortable enough with Jack, which no one had expected.

"Anything else?" Daniel said, dumping the potatoes into a pot as instructed.

"Fill it with water . . . just enough to cover them."

They worked together amicably, and Jack was glad to see him so calm and comfortable in his presence. Quite a difference from Daddy Daniel's initial reactions to him. He'd just have to be careful about getting angry in front of him for awhile.

Just as Jack was putting the meat in the broiler, the doorbell rang. Daniel rushed off to get it, and a moment later the whole team was in the apartment. Carter put her bottle of wine in the fridge, Teal'c put a white, unlabeled box in the freezer, and they all chatted happily. Jack shifted them from the kitchen to the living room once everything was cooking and they settled down on the sofas.

Daniel took a deep breath and settled into the corner of the couch.. "So, tell me, what was the Daniel who was left here like? How different was he from me? How different is his reality?"

None of them replied immediately, and Jack finally cleared his throat. "Well, one similarity we seem to have is that our realities are the only ones in which Sha're is still living." Daniel's happy expression dimmed slightly, and Jack reached out to squeeze his hand. "Apparently she's dead in most of the others."

"Then I guess we're pretty fortunate," Daniel said. "But I'm guessing, from the way you guys are looking at me that there's more to it than that."

Jack glanced at the other two. Carter looked away, flushing and Teal'c sighed. Turning back to Daniel, Jack said, "In that reality, Skaara was taken by the Goa'uld, and is Klorel's host, but Sha're had stepped outside the pyramid to see if we . . . if her 'us' were returning yet, so she escaped the snatch."

Daniel stared at him, face gone slack. "He still has her?" he breathed finally. "I mean, they're still together, but he's at the SGC?"

"They're both there," Jack said. "The gay Daniel said she was very supportive."

Daniel's eyes filled with tears. "That's . . .that's wonderful!" he said, but his voice was shaking. "I wish . . . I wish so much . . ."

Jack scooted over and put an arm around Daniel's shoulders, squeezing him tightly. "We'll find her, Daniel. We'll find her and bring her home."

Shortly after the news about the other Daniel's Sha're and the twins had been imparted, Daniel excused himself to the bathroom where he got himself back under control. He was glad, honestly glad for the other Daniel, but heart-wrenchingly jealous as well. Apophis had taken so much from him before he died. It wasn't fair.

Of course, it wasn't fair that the other Sha'res were dead while his was still out there, potentially retrievable. It wasn't fair that Samantha's Daniel was dead. So many things in the universe were not fair. He didn't need to waste energy bemoaning his troubles.

He was home. They would find a way to rescue Sha're from her hideous captivity. He had friends who cared about him, a job he loved. There were blessings to be counted, so he should stop wasting time on the negative.

Washing his face, he went back out into the living room to find Sam explaining to Teal'c how to set a table.

"Why does it matter where the utensils are placed?" Teal'c asked.

"That's just the way it's done," Sam replied with a hint of exasperation.

Daniel walked over to Sam. "Jaffa families have a specific way of laying out the table, you know," he said with a smile.

Sam turned towards him. "It's different?"

Shrugging, Daniel said, "Yes, but that's not the point." Sam raised her eyebrows, and Daniel saw a twitch at the corner of Teal'c's mouth. "He knows why it matters."

"Then why –" She broke off, her eyes narrowing. "Teal'c!"

The Jaffa raised one eyebrow, his small smile smoothed away to an expression of innocence. Daniel chuckled and left them to it, heading into the kitchen to see how the food for his dinner party was coming. Jack was dropping roasted garlic into the pot with the potatoes, now cooked to tenderness. He put in a dollop of sour cream and began to mash them.

"Do you need any more help?"

"You could take the green beans and the corn out to the table," Jack said. Daniel followed his instructions, and in very short order they were all seated around the table, digging in. The meat tasted heavenly, the vegetables were crisp and flavorful, and the mashed potatoes had just the right amount of garlic.

After several minutes, Jack cleared his throat and stood up. They all looked at him in startlement, and he said, "We forgot the wine. Just a minute."

"I was wondering," Sam said as Jack disappeared into the kitchen. "Merlot wouldn't go all that well with chocolate mousse pie."

Teal'c gave her an alarmed look. "Indeed it would not," he replied. "Though I still do not fully understand why that is called mousse. Is not moose the name of a game animal that is hunted and eaten?"

Before Daniel could attempt an explanation of the French derivation of the word mousse, Jack came back out with four glasses and the wine. He'd already popped the cork, and he poured them all generous glasses, placing one in front of each of them, starting with Sam and ending with Daniel. He put the bottle down and picked up his own glass. "I would like to propose a toast," he said. The others stood.

A little startled by the sudden formality, Daniel struggled to his feet. "What's up, Jack?" he asked suspiciously.

Jack didn't respond directly, but his eyes were full of warmth as he started to speak, widening his gaze to include Sam and Teal'c. "Here's to a man of manifold talents and skills who gives of himself freely to those in need, the best friend anyone could ever have . . ." He paused and then met Daniel's eyes. "Certainly the best friend I've ever had. To Daniel Jackson, a man who is truly irreplaceable."

"Indeed!" Teal'c said fervently.

"To Daniel Jackson," Sam echoed, and they all drank.

Daniel was flummoxed. It was the last thing he'd expected. His eyes filled with tears and he gazed around at his friends . . . his family, overwhelmed with happiness.

Daniel's eyes fairly glowed, and Jack smiled back at him. All was right with the world again.

fin


End file.
